Requiem For a Sinner
by anwamane13
Summary: AU: Castiel was not Dean Winchester's guardian angel. On the contrary, his job was to collect his soul and deliver him to Death, so the Grim Reaper could take him before their Father to be t, as Castiel stood before Death to plead for Dean's life, he wondered since when he cared about what happened to humans. Or why he was in love with him.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

_Yet if there is an angel at their side, a messenger, one out of a thousand, sent to tell them how to be upright,_

_and he is gracious to that person and says to God, 'Spare them from going down to the pit; I have found a ransom for them—_

_let their flesh be renewed like a child's; let them be restored as in the days of their youth'—_

_then that person can pray to God and find favor with him, they will see God's face and shout for joy; he will restore them to full well-being."_

_Job, 33:23-26_

**THEN**

**Somewhere in Heaven**

Castiel was not Dean Winchester's guardian angel. He was a Malakh, a warrior. He was not a guardian angel. On the contrary, his job was to collect his soul and deliver him to Death, so the Grim Reaper could take him before their Father to be judged. For Dean's time on Earth had ended and the man would be rewarded for his life in Heaven.

Yet, as Castiel stood before Death to plead for Dean's life, he wondered since when he cared about what happened to humans. Something had changed inside him and he didn't understand what or why. He had always been able to execute his orders with precision, no questions asked, no hesitation, and he had always been praised for that.

It wasn't that Dean was too young to die. Castiel had collected children's souls before, often sick ones, and he had never questioned. Dean was 32, and if Death had decided it was Dean's time, then it was. Castiel had been sent to Earth to collect his soul, because all angels had to serve the Pale Horseman once in a while. Death was ancient, having existed since the beginning of time alongside God. Castiel's was a simple task. Simpler than the many wars Castiel had fought against demons of all kinds.

But Castiel couldn't do it.

For a week, he had observed the man whose death he would be responsible for. And at the end of every single day, he had gone to Heaven in shame and doubt. Shame that he had once more failed to execute such a simple task. Doubt about the task itself, for Castiel couldn't understand why he had to do it, and that led to questions that led to hesitation.

For the first time, in his very long life, Castiel doubted. For the first time, he hesitated. And everything that happened after that were just consequences of that first instant of doubt.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, July, 2013**

"Hiya, Cas!"

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said as he opened the diner's door. "What are you doing here so early?"

"Didn't sleep much, so I came to see if you guys were open and if I could beg for a cup of coffee." Dean leaned on the door, looking beaten.

"What happened with your coffee maker?" Castiel wanted to know.

Deal gave a small laugh. "Man, you are something. Look, I just need a cup of coffee and someone to talk to. My coffee maker is fine."

Castiel frowned and stepped aside to let Dean in. "What happened? You seem tired."

"I am dead on my feet," Dean said as he sat on a stool by the counter, while Cas went to fetch him a cup. "I went out last night to have a drink. Don't remember much, but I woke up in my bedroom with this killer headache, and couldn't go back to sleep."

"I don't understand humans' need to imbibe copious amounts of alcohol," Castiel said, while he poured coffee in Dean's cup.

"Ha ha, very funny. You talk as if you're not human. Don't tell me you never got drunk before."

Castiel tilted his head. "I didn't. I never drank anything with alcohol in it."

It was Dean's time to frown. "Dude, are you serious?" When Castiel nodded he went on. "What a waste! Sometimes I forget you used to live in a nutshell," he joked.

"I never had occasion," Castiel justified.

Dean laughed again. "Come on, man, not even a beer? You're 35 and you never had alcohol in your whole life?"

"No,"Castiel answered, unable to understand the allure alcohol had on people.

"Dude, you don't know what you're missing. Listen, you wanna go to the Roadhouse again one of these days? Just you and me? Have some beers, play some pool?" Dean smiled, then got serious again. "Unless you can't come, for some religious reason or whatever…?"

"I would be honored to accompany you, Dean," Castiel hurried to say.

"Okay, is Friday night alright with you?"

Castiel nodded. "It's a date."

Dean's eyes widened. "Whoa, man!" he laughed. "It's not… I don't… I mean, I … okay, it doesn't have to be a date, like, a date, you know?" Dean shrugged. "It will be good for you to get out of here for a bit."

"Alright,"Castiel answered, looking down. "More coffee?"

They stayed in companionable silence for a while, Castiel cleaning here and there, getting the diner ready to open, and Dean lost in his own thoughts while he sipped his coffee.

Castiel liked moments like that. He had been in Lawrence for almost two months now, and Dean was almost every day at the diner. Sometimes he arrived early, before the owners even, always with some kind of excuse to get inside before the diner opened. Castiel suspected Dean liked his coffee very much, although he had never made coffee before coming to the city.

At 7 Missouri arrived, loudly as always.

"Dean!" she greeted, patting Dean's back affectionately. "Can't say it's a surprise to find you here, boy. You seem to like my diner very much these days," she said, winking at Castiel, but he frowned, completely at a loss. If that was a joke, he didn't understand.

Dean's cheeks turned a little red. "Come on, Missouri, a man can't have his coffee in peace anymore?" he said, looking at the floor.

"Castiel, darling," Missouri said, "be a gentleman and get the groceries I left in the car, will you?"

Castiel nodded and wiped his hands on his apron, walking outside and leaving Dean and Missouri talking. The Winchesters were old friends, she had explained to Castiel one day, and Missouri had taken care of them more than once when they were little, so their mother could work.

Outside, the day was sunny and cloudless, and Castiel walked to Missouri's car to get the groceries with no hurry. The little flower shop that belonged to Mary Winchester was already opening, and she waved at him from the other side of the street. She was a sweet and kind woman, and everybody in the neighborhood talked fondly about her. and she had always smiled and waved at him since he arrived, even before they'd met.

When he got back with the heavy bags full of fruits and eggs, Missouri and Dean were talking quietly and they seemed very serious. Castiel knew it wasn't his place to intrude, so he left the groceries inside and came back with the pastries to arrange them on the plates by the counter. He couldn't help listening to their talk, though.

"So, John has been calling Mary again," Missouri said. "I knew there was something wrong since I saw your face."

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "He's been calling, and she's been crying. What the Hell, Missouri, how can she still love him after all these years?"

"Love is hard to explain or understand, boy. You will understand your mother when you feel it yourself."

"Forget it," Dean snapped. "If love does to people what it did to Mom and Dad, thanks, but no thanks."

They were quiet for a few seconds and then Missouri whispered: "He is in town."

Dean grimaced and looked at her. "Dad? I feared that. You felt it?"

"Yes." she sighed. "I may be wrong".

"No way. I don't understand this psychic thing you have going but it never fails."

"What are you going to do if he comes knocking?"

"He won't come looking for me or Sam," Dean said barely repressing his rage. "But Mom's it's a whole different thing. I swear, if he makes her cry of if he upsets Sam, I – "

"You nothing, boy!" Missouri's voice was harsh. "He is your father."

"Yeah, and what a great father he is," Dean snorted. "A father who abandoned her with two small children, Sam was only six months for God's sake!" Dean looked at her seriously. "You know Mom and Sam are everything to me. I would do anything for them. Shit, if God himself came to Earth to make me choose, I would put them before anything in the world, even Him. I _won't_ let Dad hurt them," he said, vehemently.

Castiel felt a sharp pain in his insides at Dean's words. He let the empty plate he was holding crash on the floor while he clutched at his abdomen, gasping.

"Cas!" Dean was at his side in an instant, a hand on his back and the other supporting him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I – I am fine now," he tried to straighten himself, but the dizziness that came made him blink several times before he could focus on Dean's face before him.

"Fine my ass!" Dean helped him sit on a chair. "Come on, you need to sit down."

"When was the last time you eat, boy?" Missouri asked Castiel knowingly.

"The plate, I need – I need to clean the floor before – "

"Answer her, dammit!" Dean snapped. "Did you eat today?"

"I – I don't – I don't know," he answered, taking a deep breath. "Maybe I forgot…?"

"Seriously? You don't know?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Stay there while I get you some warm tea and milk," she said, disappearing inside the kitchen.

"Bring some crackers too!" Dean shouted.

They waited patiently while Castiel ate everything. Dean cleaned the floor and Missouri only opened the diner when they were sure he was alright. Then Dean left for work and Castiel spent the whole day between cleaning tables and serving coffee; before he knew it, it was late night and the diner was closing.

Later, in the small bedroom behind the diner, where he lived, Castiel sat on the bed, thinking. He contemplated praying, but there wasn't any reason to despair. Not yet.

He opened the bedside table's drawer and got an old bible Missouri had given him on his first day in the city. Inside, there was a paper with Castiel's messy handwriting. There was only one line written.

_You shall not misuse the name of the LORD your God._

Slowly, painfully, Castiel wrote under the first line:

_You shall have no other gods before me._

He stayed a few moments looking at the paper, lost in thought. Then, he put the paper inside the book again, turned off the light and went to sleep.

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, April, 2013**

The first time Dean Winchester saw Castiel, he thought the guy was very strange. Dean had barely stepped inside the diner and the man stopped in front of him.

"Hello," he said, with a low, deep voice, rough as sandpaper.

Dean looked around. Maybe the guy had mistaken Dean for someone else? "Um… hi?" he said, when it was clear the man would not move before he answered.

"Hello," the man said again, without moving.

"Hello, how are you this fine morning?" Dean attempted a little sarcasm, because come on, who was this guy?

"It is indeed a fine morning. The sun is very bright and the breeze is pleasant," the guy answered.

"Okay, is this some kind of joke?" Dean asked, looking at the guy for real for the first time, and whoa! Blue eyes, bed hair, a light stubble…the guy was a looker, but apparently, completely nuts.

"Hello, Dean. My name is Castiel," he said, extending his hand for Dean to shake.

"Okay, this is getting creepy. Cas what? And you know my name, how?"

"Dean! I guess you met my new employee, Castiel," Missouri appeared out of nowhere, patting Dean's back like she always did. "He just arrived in town, and he needed a job and a place to stay, so he'll be working here and staying at the room in the back."

"Oh. That is, err… great," Dean said, at a loss of words. Missouri had the habit of employing stray guys and girls once in a while. They always stayed in the little apartment in the back of the diner. And they always went away. One day they were there, the other day they weren't anymore. He looked at her worriedly. Did she even know where this guy had come from?

"I know what you're thinking, boy, and you don't need to worry. His brother is an old friend of mine, I'm completely safe."

"Uh… okay," Dean said, eyeing the guy that seemed to follow his conversation with Missouri curiously, without saying a word. "So… um… okay, then," Dean said, not knowing what else to say. The guy, Castiel, was still looking at him as if he was very interesting and Dean fought the urge to run his hand through his hair, just to check if it was in place.

"Come on, boys, there is hot chocolate inside," Missouri said with a snort, turning and walking straight to the kitchen.

Dean spent half an hour sipping his chocolate and eyeing Castiel suspiciously while Missouri taught the man to use the coffee maker and fetched a new apron for him to use. More than once their eyes met, and Dean had to look away, uncomfortable with Castiel's piercing gaze.

Missouri was like a second mother to him. After his parents got divorced, Mary had opened a flower shop across the street, and Dean had lost count of how many times he and his baby brother Sam had gone to the diner to have lunch and dinner while Mary worked.

They had found out about Missouri's psychic ability at an early age. Now he and Sam were used to it, accepting her gift as a part of who Missouri was. Dean had relied on her intuition more than once, and she had never failed.

When they were growing up, while Sam preferred to do his homework at their quiet house, its emptiness usually left Dean restless. So, he started going to the diner every day and, sitting at a table at the back, he did his homework every afternoon. The fact that Missouri usually gave him pie and hot chocolate was a plus.

Even now, Dean went to the diner almost every day, usually to have breakfast or dinner, but sometimes just to say hello. He loved Missouri, so it was natural that he was very protective towards her. She was a widow and, having never had children, she lived by herself. Dean knew that she liked to help people, but he found her habit to put strangers under her roof – based only on her intuition about them – very unsettling.

He wouldn't let anyone harm her. And if this Cas-whatever was going to be around for a while, Dean was going to keep an eye on him. He was definitely weird and he was looking at Dean again in that intense way that made a shiver run down Dean's spine. This could not be good. Who knew who this guy was or what he could do to Missouri? Sometimes she was too kind for her own good.

Yeah, it was decided: Dean would keep an eye on this guy, because he needed to protect Missouri.

Just in case.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, July, 2013**

On Friday night, Castiel was ready to go out with Dean. "Not a date", he repeated in his head. But he was immensely fond of the man, and he was happy that Dean had asked him out. On the non-date.

Also, he was a little anxious to see what a bar was like. Castiel had never gone inside a den of iniquity, and he was very curious. He wondered if curiosity was an attribute of his new condition. Or maybe he had always been like that.

But more than seeing what the bar was like, he just wanted to keep Dean safe.

Missouri had given him the night off. It was Friday night and the diner was busy, but she insisted that he should go and have some fun. He still felt uncomfortable leaving her in a busy night, but her nephews Gordon and Victor, who also worked at the diner, said they would help her.

Dean was late by nineteen minutes and eleven seconds. Castiel was beginning to worry he wouldn't come. He arrived in his black Impala, dressed also in black, except for the leather jacket. He looked very attractive.

Castiel checked his reflection in the mirror nervously. His white button down and his dark jeans looked too simple compared with Dean's clothes. But Dean's eyes widened when he looked at Cas.

"You look, um, you look great," Dean smiled. "I've only seen you with that fucking yellow apron, man," he said.

"Thank you, Dean. You look very good as well." It was true, so Castiel didn't see any problem in stating the truth.

The drive to the bar was in silence because Dean wanted to introduce Castiel to "the best music ever". Castiel wouldn't have chosen the loud guitars and the screaming voice if he had been given the opportunity, but the music wasn't unpleasant. And it fit Dean like a glove. Loud and intense, full of life, like the man beside him.

Once they got at the Roadhouse, Dean found them a table near one of the windows and while Castiel waited, he went to the counter and came back with two beers.

"Cheers," he said, taking a long sip of his.

Castiel didn't like the bitter taste too much, but Dean insisted it was just because he wasn't used to it. Because Dean insisted he should eat something, Castiel ordered a salad. Dean shook his head at Castiel's choice and ordered for himself a bacon cheeseburger and French fries, and the two started to eat in companionable silence, as it always happened with them.

"You're just like my brother," Dean said, eyeing Cas' salad suspiciously. "How can you eat rabbit food?"

"I'm sure Sam is just worrying, with reason, about his arteries and his blood pressure. You should be doing that too."

"Nah, not me. I'm more the type 'live intensely, die young', you know?"

Castiel felt a pang in his heart. "You shouldn't say that. You do not deserve to die young."

"Man, it's just a figure of speech, you know?" Dean smiled at Cas. "Of course I don't want to die young. Have to take care of Mom and I want to see Sammy become an important lawyer in New York, or something like that."

"Your love for him is amazing," Castiel smiled too, because it was hard not to. Dean's face brightened when he talked about his brother.

"Dude, Sam is the most intelligent person I've ever seen," Dean said enthusiastically. "He was always the top of his class and graduated High school with honor. Next year he will be a fucking lawyer. It's hard to believe.

"You must be very proud of him," Castiel agreed.

"He's awesome," Dean said with a fond smile. Then he smirked, "I don't even know why you're my friend instead of his. You two have more in common than you and I. I guess it's because I found you first." Dean smiled and signaled at the waiter to keep the beers coming.

"I like you," Castiel stated, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "We don't need to have a lot in common to spend time with each other.

Dean stopped and raised his eyebrows. "Thanks, I guess. I, um, I like you too, Cas," he admitted. "Talking to you is easy."

"Thank you, Dean". .﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽﷽ Deanis easy.g like thspend time with each other.d.

ng.

become an important lawyer in New York, or something like th

Dean cleared his throat. "Now, tell me about you. I feel like you know my whole life and I don't have the slightest clue about you."

Castiel bit his lower lip and nodded, a little hesitant. "What do you want to know?"

"Tell me something about your family."

Castiel took a deep breath. "I… I have many brothers and sisters. But lately I've been separated from them. I've been close to one of my brothers, though. I haven't seen him in a long time, but... he helped me when I needed him."

"The one you talk about?" Dean asked.

Castiel nodded. "He brought me here and introduced me to Missouri."

"And where is he now?" Dean wanted to know.

Castiel looked down, hesitant. Then he said softly, "Working."

If Dean noted Castiel's sad expression, he didn't give any indication. "And where did you work before coming to this wonderful town?" He asked, giving a huge bite in his sandwich.

"I, uh… I was a… a messenger."

"Really? Wow, I thought you were a teacher or something like that. A librarian maybe, I don't know. You strike me as the nerdy type."

Castiel smiled softly. "I enjoy reading very much."

The rest of the dinner went smoothly, Castiel managing to take the conversation away from himself. They talked about Dean's childhood, and the pranks Dean and Sam liked to pull on their Uncle Bobby. He wasn't their uncle for real, just John's best friend, but he had always been there for the boys when their own dad wasn't.

Dean didn't like to talk about his father, Castiel noted. Every time he mentioned the man, it was with a hint of hurt, maybe anger in his eyes. But he wasn't ready for the next thing Dean said:

"What about your parents? Tell me about them."

Castiel's lips formed a thin line and he looked down, clearly uncomfortable.

"Hey, hey, sorry…" Dean said, covering Castiel's hand with his over the table and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry, if you don't wanna talk about this, I won't insist. You're not the only one with daddy issues."

Castiel looked at Dean's eyes and found nothing but sympathy. His heart squeezed strangely in his chest. He had never had a friend before, not outside his family. It made him feel important, like he was special, and Castiel knew he wasn't.

He looked at Dean's hand on his, and when Dean realized he still hadn't let Castiel's hand go, he gave a nervous laugh and widened his eyes, but before he could pull his hand away, Castiel gripped it firmly. He had never done that, had never felt someone else's hand on his, but it felt so right that he couldn't find in him the will to let go.

"Um… Cas…? Dean asked, squeezing his hand again before he let go.

"Yes, Dean?" Castiel eyed his empty hand that now seemed very lonely over the table.

"Wanna go for a walk? Or do you want to play pool instead?"

Before Castiel could answer, a strong perfume assaulted his senses.

"Hey, Dean! Who's your boyfriend?" a female voice asked from behind.

"Hey, Bella," Dean said, clearly annoyed and letting Cas' hand go. "This is Cas. My friend."

"Hello, cutie,," she said to Cas. "But don't worry, Dean, I still think you're cuter," she laughed, a beer in her hand, her clothes showing more than they should. "When will you take me home with you, big boy?"

"Go home, Bella," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "Earl must be worried."

"Oh, you had to talk about him and spoil everything, huh?" she laughed again. "But I'm not angry, I swear. And if you don't talk about Earl again, I'll let you and your boyfriend take me home, whattya think?"

Castiel's eyes widened. "I don't – I don't think we – "

"Thanks , Bella, but we're in a hurry to meet Sam," Dean gave her a fake smile and pulled Castiel from his chair. "Let's go, Cas."

"Don't know what you're missing, boys!" she called while Dean pulled Cas by the arm toward the counter, where he paid the bill. In less than three minutes they were outside, the breeze messing with Cas' hair even more.

"I guess you won't be teaching me hot to play pool tonight," Castiel said.

"I'm sorry about Bella," Dean sighed while they got inside the car. "She's been trying to get in my pants for a while. And she's not the type who gives up, apparently," Dean snorted.

"She's a very attractive woman," Castiel said.

"Tell me about it," Dean laughed. Last week I was at the Roadhouse and she practically sat on my lap."

"She must like you," Castiel said, with something very similar to anger starting to burn hot in his chest.

"She likes everybody, if you get my meaning." Dean said, starting the car. "I mean, I don't deny I've got the hots for her, but every guy in the neighborhood has. But I'm not in the mood for one-night stands anymore."

Castiel felt the burning in his chest getting a little worse. Dean was a free, single man, and Bella didn't have to be a one-night stand. "You could have something more… permanent, if you wanted," he said, even though he felt his throat burning too.

"Nah," Dean stopped at the red light. "She's not the one, Cas. Besides, she's married. Earl, the guy I asked her about? Great guy, a marine, but came from Afghanistan paraplegic. Apparently Bella wasn't ready to play housewife to a sick husband. Poor guy."

But Castiel wasn't listening. At the world 'married' the burning in Castiel's throat and chest got worse and he gasped, everything black for a second.

"Cas?" Dean asked, turning to him, but a horn sounded from behind them, the light already green. The car rolled for a few seconds before Den asked, "Man, are you sick or something? This is not the first time this happens."

"I'm fine," Castiel said finally, when Dean stopped in front of the diner. For some reason, he couldn't look Dean in the eyes. He opened the car's door and turned to him. "Good night, Dean. Thank you, I had a great time tonight," he said, getting out of the car before Dean could answer. He didn't look back, so he didn't see Dean's puzzled expression.

Going straight to his room, Castiel sighed and closed his eyes, as he closed the door behind him. Dean's words still in his mind. _"I don't deny I've got the hots for her," _and_ "she's married."_

Things were going too fast. Castiel hadn't made the rules, but he suspected that not even who'd made them thought things were going to progress this fast.

This wasn't right.

He opened the old Bible again and picked the paper inside it.

"_You shall not covet your neighbor's wife,"_ he wrote.

Three in a week. It was too much. Things were going well, why this sudden fast pacing? If before Castiel thought he had no reason to despair, now something cold, like dread, was starting to grow inside him. How could this be happening? Was he so incompetent that there was nothing he could do to slow the pace?

He looked at the paper again, where three sentences seemed to burn at his eyes. Three. In what, four days? Five? At this rate, everything would be over in months. "_Maybe less_," he thought with a shiver.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

_Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work:_

_If one falls down, his friend can help him up. _

_But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up! _

_Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. _

_But how can one keep warm alone?_

Ecclesiastes 4:9-11

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, April 2013**

Dean was tired. Again. He hadn't slept more than three hours, and today he had a lot of work to do. Yesterday had been hectic at the garage. It seemed that every single owner of a vintage car wanted it repaired as new. Dean loved his job, and repairing antique cars was a job as good as any. Money wasn't bad, either. He was very good at what he did, and he was starting to get famous throughout Kansas. But dealing with people, especially stressed clients, was a whole different thing.

He never slept more than four or five hours a night, but three? It was too much – no, it was too _little. _

Since John Winchester left home, when he and Mary had gotten divorced, Dean started to wake up in the middle of the night to check on Sam. The big age difference between them – Dean was almost eight and Sam was six months – made him feel responsible for his baby brother. Now that Dad wasn't home anymore, Dean was the man of the house. It was his job to look after Sam and Mom, who was always crying.

So Dean would tiptoe to Sam's room and then to Mom's. Just to check if she was sleeping. Sometimes, right after the divorce, she took sleeping pills, and Sam would cry and cry at night, so Dean had to get him and sing for him a little. Then, after Sam calmed down, Dean would go to Mom's room to see if she was still breathing. Just in case. Just to make sure she hadn't left him too.

When things got better, when Mom got out of her depression, Dean tried to sleep the whole night. But the habit was already there, so he spent his whole life with no more than six hours of sleep a day. Mom worried, but the doc said it was just the way Dean was.

Now, Dean wished for the six-hour rest. Lately, things were getting worse. He was starting to sleep less and less. He had taken the habit to go for a walk just before the sunrise, to clear his mind before a day usually full of work. Lawrence was a small city, people were still able to walk around in the middle of the night without being mugged.

The diner's light was on. Dean checked his watch; it was still five A.M. and he knew Missouri never got up that early. Maybe it was that Castiel guy. Maybe he had insomnia like Dean. Or maybe he was a creepy freak who performed voodoo rituals at night and was planning Missouri's assassination right now.

Smiling to himself, Dean stopped at the other side of the street, just outside of his mother's shop, by the window. Spring was coming and soon he and Sam would have to help Mom rearranging the showcase again. She insisted her boys participated in the 'family business', although she knew neither Dean nor Sam would sell flowers. Dean repaired vintage cars and Sam was almost graduating at law school.

Lost in thought, Dean started to cross the street. Suddenly, there was a loud horn near him, and he felt himself being pushed to the side with a lot of strange. The momentum threw him to the ground, on the sidewalk, and someone landed on top of him with a huff.

He watched, astonished, as the truck that had almost ran over him got smaller and smaller in the distance.

He should be dead by now. If not for the person who pushed him away from the truck, Dean Winchester would be history.

"Hello, Dean," said the low and raspyvoice.

Well, shit. "Uh…" he managed to say.

"Are you alright?" Castiel said, his intense blue eyes looking intently at Dean's face, looking for injuries, maybe.

"Cas… a little personal space would be good now."

Castiel looked at Dean in confusion. "Cas?"

"Yes, Cas, but if you don't like it, I can – look, thank you for saving me, but you're a little heavy, and I need to breathe, man."

Castiel seemed to understand now, and his eyes widened almost comically. "Oh," he said, "My apologies." He got up awkwardly, all bones and angles, and Dean finally could breathe.

"Are you alright?" Castiel asked again, after Dean got up too and stood in front of him.

"What the hell happened?" Dean asked, mesmerized, still unable to shake off the fact that, if not for this man, he would be dead. _Dead._

"I saved you," Castiel declared, apparently very satisfied with himself.

"No shit, Sherlock," Dean said, looking around. The street was deserted again, the sun wasn't already up, and everything was dark and quiet, as if nothing had happened. "Where did you come from?"

"I was throwing the garbage at the dumpster," Castiel said, pointing at the alley beside the diner. "I heard the truck coming."

"Shit, I didn't hear anything," Dean said, astonished. "I think I owe you my life."

"You're welcome," Castiel said, in that flat tone of his.

"Man, I – I still can't believe it," Dean shook his head slowly. He was so tired and distracted that he'd almost got ran over by a freaking truck.

"I have fresh coffee. You should seat for a while."

"Yeah, I guess it's a good idea."

They crossed the street together, side by side, Dean eyeing Castiel curiously. The man looked fine, refreshed even, for someone who was up so early in the morning. Dean always woke up feeling like shit. And right now his butt hurt from when it hit the sidewalk.

Dean sat at the counter while Castiel poured him some coffee.

"Why are you up so early?" Castiel asked.

Dean didn't mind answering. After all, Castiel was an early riser too. "I have insomnia. Was always like that."

Castiel gave him a nod, and after a pause, he said, "I don't require much sleep. Missouri started going home earlier because I don't mind staying and closing the diner, since I still have to clean it."

Dean frowned. "You spend the entire day here?"

Castiel gave half a shrug. "I don't know anybody besides Missouri, her nephews and the regular customers. It's only been two weeks since I arrived here." He paused, turning to adjust the temperature of the air conditioner. "I went to the park on Monday afternoon and watched the sunset. I don't mind staying here; I don't have anywhere else to go."

For Dean it sounded like a very shitty life. Apparently the man had been dumped by his brother here, in the middle of nowhere, Kansas, and now lived the most boring life Dean had ever heard of. Well, at least the part about the voodoo rituals wasn't true, apparently. But Dean still didn't know anything about the guy, so he didn't completely trust him, even if the guy had just saved his life.

"Where are you from?" Dean asked, out of nowhere.

Castiel stopped dead on his tracks, the pot of coffee in his hand. The very_ hot _pot of coffee.

"Man, you're burning your hand!" Dean almost shouted, and Castiel put the pot on the counter, hurriedly, spilling the liquid a little. He looked at his very red hand in wonder.

"It hurts," Castiel declared, frowning, and hurried to open the sink and put his hand under the water.

"Gee, man, if you don't wanna tell me where you are from, then don't. You don't need to burn your hand to avoid the question," Dean joked. Or better, he pretended he was joking, because Castiel's reaction had been at least a strange one.

The other man looked at Dean with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. "P – Paradise," he stuttered.

"You're from Paradise Hill, Oklahoma?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "I met a girl from there, once. Gee, you're far away from home, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," Castiel declared. "I – I think I saw some ointment in the back," he said, blowing at his red hand. "If you excuse me, I'll be back shortly."

Dean nodded in acquiescence. There was clearly something about his past that Castiel didn't want to talk about. But Missouri trusted him, and Dean trusted Missouri, so, it would have to do.

Sipping his coffee, he remembered his near-death experience from a few minutes ago. Shit, he really was distracted. And Castiel had saved his life. He decided that Castiel wasn't so bad, after all. For a weird guy.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, July 2013**

Castiel dreamed about Dean that night. Dean was crying, pleading, begging for help. Castiel could see him, but he was paralyzed somehow, unable to help. Beside him, someone in a deep, thunderous voice, kept talking. And the more this someone talked, the more Dean writhed on the ground, in pain. Castiel's whole being hurt. He was desperate to reach out and help him, his heart aching with pity, compassion, sorrow, _love_; his very core screaming 'don't make him suffer like that'.

But all he could do was stay there, unable to speak, to move, to look away. And the voice went on and on, each word like daggers in Castiel's heart.

_You shall not misuse the name of the LORD your God._

_You shall have no other gods before me._

_You shall not covet your neighbor's wife_

_You shall – _

Castiel woke up with a start, drenched in sweat, the dream still vivid in his mind. What could he do to stop this? If the situation got out of hand, who could he call for help? Perhaps no one. Probably no one. No one would risk everything to help him. He was alone in this.

Sighing, he got up and started his day. It was Saturday, and the diner opened only at ten, but he couldn't stay in bed anymore. He took a shower, brushed his teeth and went to the diner. The place was in relative order, but cleaning was never Victor and Gordon's thing. The windows were greasy and the coffee machine was dirty. The floor was in no better state.

As always, it was still dark outside, and Castiel looked at the desert street while he cleaned the windows. He liked these quiet moments, early in the morning, when he could meditate while cleaning the diner. He wondered if Dean had slept the whole night or if he would be coming early to chat, like he frequently did.

He couldn't take the image of dream-Dean in pain from his mind. Suddenly he became very anxious to see him, to know if he was alright.

He started to work and lost track of time, so when Missouri arrived with the pastries and fruits, everything was already clean. The day went on as always. Between customers, coffee pots, spilled drinks and dirty plates and glasses, Castiel almost forgot that Dean hadn't come. Almost, because Dean was always in his thoughts. But Castiel didn't worry, because it was Saturday, and Dean surely had better things to do that to go to the diner to chat with Castiel.

He was probably spending some time with his family.

But at 11 P.M., when the last client left, Castiel started to worry again. If he had Dean's number, he would call him, just to know if everything was alright. But he didn't, and he wouldn't dare to ask Missouri. The knowing looks she'd been throwing at him and Dean together were at least unsettling, and even if Castiel didn't understand their reason, they made him feel… exposed, in a way he hadn't felt before. As if the older woman knew something Castiel didn't.

The problem, Castiel realized, was that he missed Dean. And he wanted to see him.

Maybe Dean had gotten upset with the way Castiel had left on Friday? He knew he hadn't said a proper goodbye – he wasn't good at social interactions, after all. But the whole Bella subject had left him without knowing what to do, and Castiel had felt the need to seek solitude and think.

Maybe he hadn't been very polite. Maybe Dean thought he hadn't enjoyed the non-date.

Interacting with people was so confusing sometimes.

After closing the diner, late at night, Castiel decided to go for a walk. The night wasn't cold and he needed to think, to find a solution to his predicament. Why were things happening so fast? He was not ready for everything spinning out of control, and he hoped it never would.

He crossed the street beside the Walmart, without paying too much attention to where his feet were taking him. But Castiel didn't believe in coincidences, so it wasn't a surprise when he realized where he was going.

In front of his house, Dean was sitting on the hood of the Impala with a beer in his hands. He was looking at the stars, and he didn't look very happy. Castile wondered if something had happened with his brother or his mother. Or even his father. John Winchester was a touchy topic for Dean.

"Dean?" He asked, approaching the man slowly.

Dean neither looked at him nor showed surprise for hearing his voice. He kept his gaze in the stars, but sat straight and moved to the side, leaving a space beside him. "Hey, Cas," he said. "Grab a seat."

It took Castiel a few seconds to understand, but he went to where Dean was and situated himself on the hood of the Impala, beside the man.

"Why are you here?" Dean asked.

"I…" Castiel hesitated. "I don't know." He honestly didn't.  
"I didn't see you today."

"Well, I wasn't sure you wanted to see me," Dean said icily. "You left in a hurry yesterday."

Castiel nodded, even though Dean still wasn't looking at him. "I know. I… I'm sorry, Dean."

"Okay, what the hell was that last night?" And Dean went straight to the point, finally looking at Castiel with a sour expression that made Castiel feel a pang inside. Dean _was_ upset, it seemed.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said again, at a loss of how to explain. He couldn't tell Dean the truth, even if he wanted to, and that left him without much to say. "I have no explanation or excuse. I know I left in a hurry and – "

"It wasn't that," Dean cut. "It was the face you made, like you were in _pain_, man. What the fuck? Like you were… shit, I don't know, but the word _'disgusted'_ fits too well. Now man up and tell me why did you practically ran away from me when we started talking about Bella."

Castiel looked down. He really had been in pain, but he couldn't tell Dean _that,_ could he? "I don't know," he said softly. I just...It didn't seem right to want a married woman."

"And you're a prude, since when?" Dean asked. "Fuck, Cas, I didn't… not even when I was drunk. And I owe you no explanation, man, so don't you dare judging me."

"I'm not judging you, Dean," Castiel put his hand on Dean's knee without realizing, and when Dean looked at it pointedly, he took it off slowly, awkwardly. "It's not my place to say what you should and shouldn't do," he finished.

"Damn right it's not!" Dean snapped.

"I… I worry about you, that's all." That was the closest from the truth Castiel could go. He did worry about Dean. In fact, he did nothing but worry about Dean.

"Well, thank you, but I've been taking care of myself since Dad left. Don't need anyone to do it for me."

Castiel didn't say anything. Thinking about Friday night, Castiel had the impression that Dean was overreaction a bit. Sure, he had practically fled the car, but was it reason enough for Dean to be so angry with him? Certainly no. But he couldn't ask, could he? As he couldn't explain why he felt so lost because Dean was displeased with him.

"I better be going," he said, almost to himself. He started to get up, but Dean put a hand on his wrist.

"Wait," Dean said, softly. "It's not all you, really. I mean, I'm a little mad, but there's a lot of shit going on at home, and – shit, grab a beer and let's just stay here, 'kay?"

Castiel felt the loss of Dean's hand on his wrist, but accepted with a nod the beer Dean took of from the cooler under his feet. And then, everything fell into place, with Dean and Castiel silently looking at the stars, drinking beer, sitting on the hood of the Impala on a summer night. Not saying a word for a long time, but feeling at peace.

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, April 2013**

Every Tuesday morning, Dean and Sam went to Missouri's diner to have breakfast. They both got up really early and, along with their mother, Mary, went to the wholesale next town to get her flowers supply. Then, they arranged everything in the deposit at the back of the shop and Mary and Becky, her employee, started arranging the flowers in vases.

They'd been doing this since they could remember. Now, both had their own careers – Dean as a mechanic specialized in restoring antique cars, and Sam just fresh out of law school – but they still went every Tuesday to the wholesale with Mary.

As they crossed the street that separated their mother's flower shop from the diner, Dean saw Cas through the glass door. He had his back to them, and appeared to be calmily sweeping the floor. He had the ridiculous yellow apron the diner's employers used, and black pants.

Cas turned his head when they opened the door, the bell above it announcing their arrival. He smiled at Dean, and, okay, Dean must be really hungry, because his stomach did a flip-flop. Of course, he must be hungry, he'd only had three of Sam's tasteless granola bars on the way back to the flower shop. And a bag of Ruffles, another of beef jerky and a can of soda.

He approached Cas, pulling Sam by the arm. "Hey, Cas," he said, "How's it going?"

Cas gave a half shrug. "Uneventful," he said, still holding the broom and looking at Sam expectantly.

"This is my baby brother Sam," Dean introduced.

"I know," Cas said.

"You know? How?" Dean frowned.

"I – I mean, Missouri talks a lot about you," Cas said to Sam. "And so does Dean." He extended his hand to Sam. "I'm Castiel."

"Hey," Sam said, shaking Cas' hand firmly. "I heard you saved my moronic brother's life," he said, smiling. "Thanks a lot, man. Dean is an asshole but Mom and I would miss him."

"That was nothing," Cas replied seriously. "I was merely in the right place at the right time."

"According to Dean, you have, like, superpowers or something, because you appeared out of nowhere, just to save him, damsel-in-distress style."

Okay, that was it. Dean slapped Sam's arm, maybe a little harder than he intended. "Shut up, bitch."

"Ow!" Sam recoiled. "You see? He's a jerk. But thanks again. Really."

"It was nothing," Cas said again, seeming embarrassed by the praise. "Will you have breakfast today?" he asked, changing the topic – it seemed he was a specialist at that.

"Yep," Dean said, sitting at the nearby table. "I'll want – "

"Black coffee, two teaspoons of sugar, no cream. Pancakes with corn syrup, eggs and bacon, corn bread," Cas finished for him.

Dean looked at him in awe. "Man, how do you know that?"

"Because you are predictable, man," Sam said, sitting down too, looking disgusted at the amount of food Dean would eat. "I'll have a latte, no sugar. Also, whole toast and eggs over-easy."

"Alright, I'll be back in a minute."

Cas turned to go, but he seemed to remember something. "Today's special is blueberry pie. Do you want me to bring you a slice?"

Dean felt a big smile coming to his lips. "Man, you're awesome. Bring it on!"

Cas smiled too and for one or two heartbeats, no one moved. Dean and Cas kept staring at each other and Sam kept staring at them, dumbfounded.

"I… I'll just…"Cas said, looking down and clearing his throat. "I'll just, um, go and get your orders."

Dean and Sam went silent for a few seconds, Dean still thinking about the glorious blueberry pie he would be having – Missouri was great at baking – and Sam doing whatever Sasquatch brothers did to pass the time.

"He seems to be a great guy," Sam commented.

"Yeah," Dean said. "He's nice. A little weird, but nice."

Sam frowned. "What happened to '_he's a wacko who'll probably murder Missouri and run away in the middle of the night with her money and her china doll collection'_?"

Dean shrugged. "Nothing. But hey, the guy saved my life, so I guess he's not that bad, uh?"

"And that staring contest, what was that?" Sam teased.

Dean was used to Sam's teasing. His brother had never said anything bad about Dean's bisexuality; he knew Sam got his back in everything he did. But Sam always teased him whenever he had the chance; especially if good-looking guys were involved.

"What staring contest?" Feigning innocence, Dean kicked his brother's shin under the table.

"Ow! Again!" Sam complained. "What's with you today, jerk?"

"I just don't want Cas to know we're talking about him. And there was no staring contest, so shut the fuck up." Dean whispered.

"Here are your beverages, gentlemen." Cas arrived with Dean's coffee and Sam's latte, making Dean almost jump from his seat. Thankfully, he didn't seem to have listened their conversation.

"Uh, thanks, Cas." Dean said with a nod, trying to look serious but not too much.

"Victor will bring your food soon. I'll accompany Missouri to the market today," Cas said, putting Dean's coffee in front of him; then he looked at Sam with a soft smile. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Sam," and to Dean, "See you later?"

"Me too, Cas," Sam said.

"Sure, see you around," Dean answered, feeling Sam's eyes on him.

Sam muffled a laugh. "See you later? Yeah, right. Like I believe you. But you have to agree that it's strange that the guy turned from '_I don't trust him, he should go' _to _'he's a great guy' _overnight."

"It was not overnight. We've been talking lately. You know I go on my early morning walks – "

"That's more 'in the middle of the night' walks, Dean," Sam interrupted.

"_Fine_. But you know, he's already up by four, five A.M. And, I don't know, I always end up here and we talk."

"Every day?" Sam asked in disbelief.

"No, no! Of course not!" Dean hurried to say. "Not every day. Um, well, not on Sundays, because the diner is closed until lunch time."

"Every freakin 'day?!" Sam said loud, then looked around, laughing a little. "No one's looking, relax. So, when are you going to ask him out?"

Dean almost choked on his coffee. "Are you _insane_?" He shook his head vehemently. "It's not like that. At all. Can't a guy have a friend, for Christ sake?"

"A guy can," Sam sipped his latte. "You, on the other hand… come on, Dean, you are practically a hermit! How many friends you have besides our extended family?"

Dean scratched his neck. "Victor!" he said triumphantly.

"Victor doesn't count. He is Missouri's nephew, therefore, a member of our extended family."

"Benny?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "That was in college, moron. It doesn't count."

"I give up," Dean said, because he couldn't think of anyone else. Besides their extended family, Dean only interacted with his clients and a hook up here and there.

Sam sobered. "All I'm saying is, you should go for it. The guy seems to like you enough, judging by the stares and the smiles. And," Sam added, "He didn't take his eyes from here. "

Dean shook his head. "You're delusional, Sammy. Delusional."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Denial, denial, your name is Dean Winchester."

"Shut up, bitch."

"Jerk.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, July 2013**

Castiel was torn. Should he go with the blur button-down or the black one? Missouri said the blue brought out his eyes, and Victor said the black one was classy. And he only had these two options, because his brother hadn't thought about his social life when he bought these clothes.

Not that any of them imagined Castiel would have a social life.

Or another date. With Dean.

It was another non-date. Dean had asked if Castiel had seen the new Star Trek movie, and Castiel hadn't, so dean invited him. Simple as that. Castiel didn't have the heart to say that he had no idea what Star Trek was, so he doubted he would understand the movie. But he accepted anyway. Saying no didn't even cross his mind. Missouri had given him the night off again. She was a great woman.

The film was at nine, but at eight Castiel was already anxious. He didn't want to examine why he was anxious too closely. It certainly wasn't because of the movie – he had asked Missouri and she'd said it was some science fiction thing. Lately, Dean's proximity was making Castiel feel things. Strange, new things.

It wasn't the protectiveness from before. The need to protect Dean was still there, of course; but now, every time Dean touched his arm or shoulder, or every time Dean smiled, Castiel felt a tingling on his skin. That was new to him. It seemed to Castiel that his feelings towards Dean were changing, but to what, he couldn't say. He had no base for comparison, since he had never interacted with someone for so long. And it was not as if he could ask the people he knew.

To pass the time, he started to clean his small room, then decided to rearrange his clothes in the wardrobe. Just so he could stop thinking about Dean. So, when Dean arrived to pick him up, he was still buttoning his shirt – the blue one – and didn't have much time to comb his hair properly. Not that combing it too much would help his rebellious hair, but he still made an effort every morning, anyway.

They were still a little tentative around each other. Dean had said he had big problems at home, and Castiel didn't want to pry. Dean did seem more tense than usual So when Dean asked him to go to the movies, Castiel was pleasantly surprised. Maybe going out was just what Dean needed to clear his head, so Castiel would gladly accompany him.

Dean was waiting inside the diner, talking to Gordon and, as Castiel approached him, Dean smiled in greeting. Castiel's stomach did that funny thing again, but he tried not to pay attention. They were already a little bit late.

The movie theatre was in walking distance from the diner, so Dean left the Impala parked in front of Mary's flower shop. The summer night was beautiful and the street was quiet. They started walking side by side, Castiel's hands on his pockets.

"You're gonna love the film, Cas," Dean said, a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Sammy saw it with his girlfriend and he spent the whole weekend talking about it."

"How is he? I haven't seen him lately."

"Oh, he's looking for a job. Putting his CV together, apparently, is harder than he thought. Maybe it's because he has so many things to write on it, the freakin' nerd."

"Dean?" they heard a grave voice from behind.

They turned together, and Dean's face went suddenly very pale.

"Dad?" he said in disbelief.

"I need to talk with you," the man, John Winchester, said. "In private."

Castiel opened his mouth to say he would wait for Dean back at the diner, but Dean put a halting hand on his arm. "No way. Cas will stay. You say what you have to say now, 'cause I don't think you'll get another chance."

"But your friend – " John started.

"Is exactly that: my friend. You can say whatever you want in front of him."

John eyes Castiel suspiciously, but started talking. "I called your mother today," he said. "I've been calling her these past weeks."

"No shit," Dean snorted. "You think I don't know? You think Sam and I didn't notice her red, puffy eyes in the morning? She's been crying at night, when we're not there to see. But we notice anyway."

"It's not my intention to upset her," John said, and to Castiel, he seemed genuinely sad.

"Really? So stop calling," Dean's angry voice trembled a little. "What do you want from her anyway?"

"To talk!" John almost shouted. "I can talk to my wife whenever I want!"

"Ex-wife, Dad. Ex-wife, because you fucking cheated on her!"

"It was a mistake, Dean. Everybody makes mistakes!"

"Don't pretend to be dumb, Dad. You know what you did was way more than a little mistake."

"Dean, I miss her," John said, running his hands through his hair nervously. "I miss having a family. I miss having a home, someone to return to every night!"

Dean's eyes were getting red, but Castiel suspected it was more anger than sadness. He backed away from father and son, trying to give them a little bit of privacy, but not wanting to leave, since Dean had asked him to stay.

"You had all of these things, Dad!" Dean shouted. "And you threw everything away! Don't play the victim here! You had a nice life, a wife that adored you, two sons that – " Dean took a deep breath. "You know what, I'm not having this conversation anymore."

Dean started to walk in Castiel's direction, but John's strong grip turned him around.

"Don't turn your back on me, boy!" he shouted. "I'm still your father!"

"You lost that right a long time ago," Dean said, his face showing all the disgust he felt. "You left twenty-four years ago, Dad. How many times you came to visit Sam and I? How many times? Two? Three? And now you want to pull the "I'm your father" card on me? Really? Forget it. You fucked up a long time ago: deal with it. Deal with your shit and the consequences if it!"

"All right!" John shouted, and his face was so red that Castiel was afraid the man was going to have a stroke. "I fucked up! I admit! But give me one thing, one reason why I shouldn't have a second chance! Everyone deserves one! Your mother still loves me, I know she does! Why can't I have a second chance, Dean?"

Dean's expression turned as cold as ice. "Because you had an affair with the fucking neighbor under Mom's nose. Because you knocked her up at the same time Mom got pregnant with Sam. Because you have another son, called Adam, who has Sam's age, and who still lives in Lawrence. Because you not only cheated on her, you lied to her, you had a son with another woman, and the more I think of it, the more I can't find any reason to forgive you. You are a liar who couldn't keep your fucking dick in your fucking pants."

The slap made Castiel flinch. Dean, on the other hand, didn't move a muscle for a while. John's face became even redder, but he backed away from Dean one or two steps, breathing heavily.

Slowly, Dean's hand went to his own face, the imprint of his father's hand already visible, even in the streetlight. He gave a step toward John. Raising a finger, he put it practically on his father's nose. "You stay away from me, your son of a bitch," and he shoved his father hard, both hands on John's shoulder. John fell on the ground, on his ass, and looked at Dean with an astonished expression.

Dean started walking away. "Let's go, Cas," he said. Under the streetlamp, he kicked a trashcan, spilling its content everywhere. "Leave this asshole on the ground, where he belongs."

Castiel couldn't breath. Leaning against the wall, the pain inside his chest was so great that, for a second, he thought he was going to faint. But he didn't and he took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Come on, Cas!" Dean called, impatient, from the other side of the street. He turned around and started walking again, not waiting for Castiel.

Looking at John, who hadn't still gotten up, but seemed fine, Castiel started walking, slowly following Dean with a heavy heart; there was a sense of foreboding growing inside him. In his mind, he kept hearing the same sentence over and over:

_You shall honor your father and your mother._

Before he turned the corner, with Dean way ahead of him, Castiel risked a look at John Winchester again.

He was still sitting on the sidewalk where he fell.

But he was smiling.

And his eyes were red.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

_When the unclean spirit has gone out of a person, it passes through waterless places seeking rest, but finds none. _

_Then it says, 'I will return to my house from which I came.' _

_And when it comes, it finds the house empty, swept, and put in order. _

_Then it goes and brings with it seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they enter and dwell there, and the last state of that person is worse than the first. _

_So also will it be with this evil generation."_

_Matthew, 12:43-45_

**THEN**

**Somewhere in Heaven**

He crept slowly from the hole. It was deep, and very, very dark, like a grave, but he had been in worse situations before. This one, though, it was in a place he had never seen. There was a bright light _everywhere_. Pure, white and blinding, it hurt his eyes, so much that there were actual _tears_ in them.

"What a clever idea", he thought, sarcastically; "to imprison a demon in Heaven."

The body of the angel he had just killed was in his cell, and he hoped the creature's scream hadn't warned the others of his escape. He needed to be quick or he would burn in this place where everything seemed to be made of light.

The place was indeed, beautiful. But he couldn't truly appreciate its splendor, because his skin was burning. He almost missed the hole he'd spent so many years imprisoned in. Suffering with all that… purity, immaculacy**,** around him. Maybe if he'd known what waited for him outside, he wouldn't have escaped. At least the hole was dark. Well, too late now. But here, the pure light burned his skin, creature of darkness that he was, and he wanted nothing more than to get out of that place.

He looked around, looking for a shadow, for cover, for _anything _that would take the burning sensation away. Then, out of nowhere, he saw stairs, far, far away. He ran towards them, not knowing where they led to, but at that moment, he didn't care.

When he reached them, he noticed that they didn't lead anywhere. There was what seemed to be a flight of stairs, going down, but they ended in a kind of void, an empty space.

He cursed, because the light was still burning, and he could feel the skin of his face peeling off. His arms, legs, torso, everything was disappearing like it was nothing. He knew that once they were gone, once the meat suit that protected his essence disappeared, he would be only black smoke. And black smoke didn't have a place here; he would explode once the pureness of the light reached his tainted core, and he would be history.

So he closed what was left of his eyes and waited for his inevitable death. "I wish I were on Earth now…" he thought, almost wistfully. It would be good to see his playground once more. It was pathetic, really, to escape the prison and die this way.

Suddenly, everything around him changed. His closed eyes and his sensitive skin felt the absence of the maddening heat, and he frowned.

He wasn't in Heaven anymore; he was on Earth.

He let out a thunderous laugh. Stupid, stupid angels. They had put his prison next to a fucking portal to Earth? Or whatever that thing was; it didn't matter. For ancient creatures, the angels could be so naïve… he would have cried of happiness, had he still a heart.

He was free.

And he wanted revenge.

Looking around he realized he was in a dark alley. How convenient. There was an old car nearby, and he looked at his reflection in the car's window. Well, his face was practically gone. This meat suit would not do anymore. He opened the meat suit's mouth and the black smoke poured out of it. Now he was pure darkness again, just the way his creator had wished him to be.

Now, all he had to do was find the angel who'd imprisoned him. And make him pay.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, July, 2013.**

"_In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen._

_Pro sanctis Angelis et Archangelis, qui in cælo habitant._

_Pro fidei veritate et iustitia._

_Castiel me angelus Domini, et nunc ostendisti mihi quae ego praecipio vobis._

_Precipimus tibi quod solvat latet velo indignus creatura, et tunc apparent coram me._

_Armatum caelestis auctoritas, imperium apparebit!"_

Castiel finished the ancient words and heard a thunder in the distance. All the lights in the warehouse went out. The windows started to vibrate.

Even in the dark, he could see perfectly fine, so it didn't escape his attention that a man had materialized over the symbols he had drawn on the floor. Slowly, the creature raised his head and looked at him. The lights went on again and Castiel found himself looking at John Winchester's face.

"Hello, hello!" the creature greeted.

"Who are you?" Castiel asked.

The creature didn't answer. Instead, he looked at Castiel with disdain. "My, my, someone was punished…" he laughed again. "You're still as I remember, Castiel. But you're not… there's a big part of you missing. You don't shine so disgustingly bright as you did when we last met."

"Do I know you?" Castiel frowned. "Show yourself, demon!"

"Tsk, tsk…" the demon raised an eyebrow. "Don't play the mighty angel card with me; I can see a big part of your Grace is missing. Poor little angel, did daddy punish you?" he said mockingly.

"So we know each other." Castiel frowned, trying to look beyond the demon's vessel. But he couldn't, which could only mean two things: either he was getting weaker, or the demon was a strong one.

"Oh, we do, we do, my dear." The demon looked at the devil's trap he was standing over. "I hope you know this won't contain me for too long. So you better say why you summoned me."

"Who are you?"Castiel insisted.

The demon looked at him and pursed his lips. "Let's see. Big place with an annoying bright light, full of cells inside deep holes? That's where I escaped from, angel."

Castiel knew immediately who he was. "Crowley."

"The one and only," Crowley said. "You know, that place you put me in to rot for years and years? It took me forever to escape, but I did. And now our situation is reversed. I'm almost tempted to fight with you to see who will win. But I have more important things to do, so we'll have to reschedule that."

Castiel tilted his head. "How did you escape?"

Crowley laughed loudly. "Well, after sixty years, your fellow angels let their guard down. Maybe they were short-staffed? The put a pretty little thing to take care of my cell. Poor youngling. His compassion made him go to my hole on the ground, because I was in pain, or so he thought."

"What did you do, filthy creature?"

"Oh, nothing too fancy. I just killed him with his own blade. He was pretty, you know? Blue eyes, eager to help a soul condemned to perpetual prison on Heaven; I think you might even know him. Samandriel."

Castiel felt a pang of sorrow for his young brother. Samandriel had compassion, indeed. Too much for his own good.

"I want you to leave John Winchester's body," Castiel demanded with conviction.

The demon laughed. "Oh! But I'm only starting to have fun with him!"

"Is John alive?"

"Of course! I wouldn't miss the opportunity to torture someone!" the demon gave an amused laugh. "He's here, trapped, screaming and pleading for me to let him out. Which I will do, in due time, as soon as I finished playing with him. Of course, I don't think there will be much left of his brain, but, what can be done?" he shrugged.

"Leave him! I will not tolerate this any longer!"

"You're not in the position to give me orders, I hope you know that. Oh, little angel, don't you realize there's nothing you can do to stop me? I could even try to kill you now, and who knows? Maybe I would succeed, such a weak, pitiful thing you are now."

Castiel blinked and suddenly his angel blade was in his hand. "Come. I'm ready."

The demon laughed again. "Not today, Castiel. Today I want to see you squirm and run to save your beloved Dean Winchester from adding one more line on that list of yours."

Castiel paled and took a step back. "How do you know about – "

The demon interrupted him. "Information is everything," he said with a smirk. "He is going to fail, you know. All the faith you have put in him… for nothing. You are a fool."

"Why are you after him?"

"Hadn't you realized yet?" Crowley said, smirking. "I'm not really after him. It's all because of you, my dear angel. You imprisoned me, you enslaved me, _you_ caused all my skin to peel off my body! Now you will watch while your precious Dean Winchester falls in my hands."

"Leave Dean out of this! And free his father!"

"Make me," Crowley whispered sarcastically.

Castiel stepped inside **th**e devil's trap, his hand raised towards Crowley, brandishing his angel blade. But the demon was faster. Out of nowhere, a sharp knife materialized in his hand, and he put it in his own chest, the sharp blade pointing directly to John Winchester's heart.

Castiel stopped.

"You don't have your old healing powers anymore, do you?" Crowley murmured, his face inches from Castiel's. "If you do, go ahead. I put this knife through his chest, you kill me, and then you heal him. Simple. Go ahead!" he provoked.

Castiel took a step back. His blade couldn't hurt humans. But real knives could. This was Dean's father, and even if Dean was resentful of him, Castiel would not hurt an innocent.

"I see," said Crowley. "You are even more pathetic than I imagined."

"What do you want, Crowley?" There was a feeling of dread in Castiel's chest. Crowley was smart but despicable, and nothing good could come out of his mouth.

"Revenge. Sweet, complete, utter revenge."

"Leave Dean and his father out of this. We can negotiate." Castiel was willing to do anything. Anything so Dean would never have to deal with Crowley again.

"Too late," Crowley said, triumphantly. "I've watched you, Castiel. I know how attached you are to that man. You…love him." Crowley almost spat the words. "Dean Winchester will die, Castiel, and there is nothing you can do about it."

"When he dies," Castiel said with conviction, "I will take him to Heaven with me." He didn't want that to happen now. Dean was still too young to die. But he would take Dean to Heaven, like was expected, and –

Crowley shook his head. "No, no, it won't happen like that. He's not dying of old age, Castiel. I will make sure he fails every step of the way on the very thing you're trying to stop him from doing. The same way I made sure he pushed his father yesterday. He will fail, and each time, his soul will be more and more tainted and dark. And finally," he said, closing hid eyes and smiling like he was imagining something sweet and beautiful, "I will personally take him to Hell with me. And every time he's tortured, every time he screams and pleads for mercy downstairs, I will remember you, and I know you will be suffering because it's your fault he's in pain. I will make sure he knows you are the cause of his torment. There is no greater revenge than that. My revenge will be endless and blissful."

Castiel felt like all strength was leaving him. "No," he murmured. "I won't let you."

"There's nothing you can do, angel. He is already doomed."

"He-he's only broken four of them," Castiel said, more to himself. "There's still time to stop him from – "

"Five," Crowley said, "he broke five, Castiel. At this time, he**'s** broke**n** five, and the sixth is on the way."

"You can't – "

"Oh, I can. What do you think I've been doing today while you sweep floors and clean tables, giving him the **'**space' he asked for? I've been whispering in his ear the whole day. A suggestion here, another there… I even went to him this morning using a new meat suit, with my broken sports car…he is so, so easy to manipulate."

Crowley raised his hands and a pipe over his head broke, water spilling over the devil's trap, breaking it. He smiled and nodded, almost politely, the knife's tip still pressed against his heart.

"As much as I would love to stay and have tea while we chat, I have an appointment," Crowley lifted one eyebrow, the knife's tip still pressed against John's heart. "I suggest you run to your dear Dean, Castiel. He might need you. He's very upset, after last night. Oh, and look for him at his workplace, will you?" When Castiel frowned, Crowley gave an evil smile and said, "Think, Castiel, what day is today? Sunday, isn't it? I would _really_ run if I were you." And with a wink, Crowley was gone.

And Castiel ran.

**THEN**

**Somewhere in Earth**

The demon Crowley looked for the angel Castiel everywhere. He would have his revenge, even if he had to wait forever. He had all the time in the world again, now that he was free.

But he couldn't find the angel. He waited and waited, but he couldn't find the one who had caused his torment. He knew Castiel was way stronger than him, but strength wasn't everything. Castiel was an angel. Therefore, all the malice Crowley had, Castiel lacked. Crowley would find a way; he would come up with a plan. All he knew was that Castiel would pay dearly for imprisoning him.

He had a lot of contacts, and he finally found Castiel, **in** Lawrence, Kansas, of all places. He was watching in the shadows while a man worked on his car. Castiel looked at the man, frowning, like there was a battle inside his head. Crowley could see the confusion and bewilderment on the angel's face. Who'd have imagined the angel Castiel was a stalker? Whoever this man was, Castiel was starting to get attached to him.

It was easy to stay in Lawrence possessing a mailman. He learned everything he could about this Dean Winchester that Castiel liked so much. He still didn't know what Castiel wanted with the man, because to Crowley, the guy was as normal, unremarkable and useless as any human. But in a short time, with his persuasion – and manipulation – skills, he knew everything there was to know about the man Castiel was stalking.

Then, Castiel disappeared for two or three days, and Crowley worried. He couldn't follow him to Heaven, after all. But then he came back, and he had another with him. Crowley stayed close, but not too much, because angels could see the demon inside the mailman. But finally, _finally_, they let their guard down, and Crowley overheard a few conversations here and there. It wasn't hard to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Crowley had always been clever and cunning. He found out why Castiel observed the man so much, and why he apparently had turned into a busboy in a shitty diner in the middle of nowhere.

And his plan started to take shape inside his head.

Now all he had to do was find Dean Winchester's father.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, July, 2013**

Right after Dean had the fight with his father, he'd started walking on the street and hadn't even waited for Castiel to follow, but Castiel had followed him anyway. After a few blocks, Dean stopped and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. Only then, he appeared to notice that Castiel was there with him.

"Look, Cas…" he started, still not looking at Castiel. "I… I want to be alone, okay?"

"I just wanted to know if you were alright, Dean," Castiel reasoned, feeling wave after wave of sorrow radiating from his friend.

"I'm fine," Dean snapped, but then closed his eyes and sighed. "Sorry, that was… sorry."

"It's alright, Dean," Castiel said, hesitantly putting his hand on Dean's shoulder.

Dean didn't seem to mind the contact. He looked at Castiel. "Look, I just need some time alone, Cas." His mouth formed a thin line. "I need to figure out some things on my own. I – I'll call you at the diner tomorrow, okay?"

"If you need anything – " Castiel started.

Dean sighed again. "I know," he said. "But now, I just… I need space."

And Castiel had let him go, thinking that, if Dean needed space, he would give it to him. He would go to Castiel when he was ready. There wasn't much that Castiel could do, anyway, his Grace weak as it was. Besides, he needed time to think, too.

There was a demon inside John Winchester.

Castiel was sure that the demon was responsible for the fight between father and son. But why? Why would a demon posses Dean's father? What would he creature gain from that?

There was only one thing to do: summon the demon himself and ask it personally what it wanted with John. For that, he needed time to think, he needed to find an empty place to do the summoning and an adequate time. He couldn't get caught.

Dean hadn't called the whole Sunday. So Castiel waited, but didn't worry. He would need some time for himself too, to summon the demon in an abandoned warehouse he'd found at the other side of the city.

He had gone to the warehouse, after the diner closed, feeling resolute and firm in his purpose. Even weak, he would certainly be stronger than the creature of darkness. So, hoping to find who the demon was, and what he wanted, wasn't too much to wish for.

He'd found out a lot more than that.

Now, even as he ran, looking for a taxi that could take him to Dean's garage, he already knew he had failed again.

It was already too late. Sunday was almost ending and he had left Dean alone the whole day.

…

Even before he reached the garage, the pain is his head told him that, indeed, he was late. He tossed a few bills at the taxi driver – he was still not comfortable with the concept of money and with the fact that he owned some – and got out of the car as fast as he could. His head was pounding, and Castiel had to stop on the sidewalk to regain his breath.

Had his Grace not been diminished, he wouldn't feel pain. It was very hard to be a human being and deal with all the care a human body needed.

Taking a deep breath and steadying himself, he approached the garage's door. He could hear loud music coming from inside, one of the rock bands Dean talked so much about.

"Dean?" Castiel knocked and waited. The music stopped abruptly.

"Cas?" Dean called from inside. "Wait, lemme unlock th' door!" His speech was slightly slurred and Castiel knew instantly he had been drinking.

The scene that awaited him inside was something that made a dull ache in his heart start and join his pounding head. Dean was wearing his work overalls and had a beer in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. "Hey, Cas!" he said, with a dumb expression. "Whaddya doin'here?"

"I… I was looking for you. You didn't call…" Castiel said lamely, because he realized he didn't know what to say.

"Spent the whole day workin', man," Dean said, turning his back to Castiel and putting the screwdriver on a table full of tools. There was a red sports car with the hood opened near the table. "This guy came ta me this mornin' and he was like, can you fix ma' car, it's kinda urgent'n all… so here I am!" He smiled drunkenly at Castiel. "Payment's good."

"You spent the whole day working," Castiel stated the obvious. "And drinking," he finished, after seeing the opened cooler by the car's side. "On a Sunday."

"Best way ta spend a Sunday, man!" Dean said, winking at Castiel. "D'you wan'a beer?"

Castiel slowly shook his head no. "Did you eat anything?" he asked, worried. The damage was done now, but he was still worried about Dean's well being.

"Ya're no fun!" Dean slurred. "An' stop motherin' me; 'm not a child."

"Okay, Dean," Castiel said with resignation. "If you're finished, let me take you home. It's getting late and you have work tomorrow."

"The perks of bein' ma own boss, man, is that I don' have ta work if I don' wanna."

"Come on, Dean," Castiel said. "Give me your car keys."

Dean grimaced, but put his hand in his pocket, looking for the car keys. "It's here sm'where…" he mumbled, his legs unsteady.

Castiel grabbed Dean's arm and made him sit on the tattered couch. "Stay here," he ordered. "I'll look for the car keys."

Dean mumbled something about bossy nerd dudes and closed his eyes. "Sure. Ever'thing's spinnin' anyway," he said, grimacing again. "Why's ever'thing spinnin', Cas?"

Castiel rolled his eyes, despite the gravity of the situation. "Just stay there," he ordered again, and went inside the adjacent office to look for the keys.

Inside, Dean's desk was a mess of papers, beer bottles and empty packs of chips. The keys were inside one of the drawers, under a few pictures. Castiel pulled the pictures and looked at them.

"Oh, Dean…" he whispered.

In his hands, a black and white image of a blond boy with a dark haired man made his heart clench. Father and son were side by side; Dean was holding a baseball bat and John was wearing a baseball glove. They looked tired and sweaty, but their smiles at the camera were happy. Behind them, a dark haired baby in a stroller looked at a pacifier with a thoughtful expression: Sam.

Castiel shook his head, so sad he couldn't even describe. For someone not used to feeling emotions – angels were warriors, feelings were a completely foreign concept to them – he certainly had been feeling a lot of them lately. Maybe because his Grace wasn't completely there to buffer all the human emotions he had no clue how to fight.

He put the pictures back in the drawer and closed it slowly. He concentrated hard and a glance at the desk made all the bottles and empty packs disappear and put all the papers in order. Little things like that he still could do, even if they left him a little weak. It was as if his Grace now had 'batteries'. It worked for some time, and then it took a while to recharge. He hadn't used it lately, not even with Crowley today. He could spare some now.

Dean was still on the couch when Castiel returned, but he was lying on it now, with his head on the armrest. His eyes were opened and fixed on the ceiling.

Castiel stopped beside him, not knowing what to say. The car keys were in his hand, but Dean looked so peaceful that Castiel didn't want to interrupt his thoughts, whatever they were. He doubted Dean would be in any condition to drive, anyway.

"I always envied Sam, ya' know?" Dean said, after a few minutes of silence. "He always had ever'thing." For some reason, his speech wasn't so slurred anymore. "He was spared."

"What do you mean?" Castiel asked, stopping by his side.

"He was small when Dad left. Doesn' remember a thing. Doesn' feel left behind." He gave a small, humorless laugh. "Didn' see Mom dyin' inside."

"Dean…" Castiel kneeled by Dean's side, wanting more than anything to comfort him, but not knowing how.

"It's not fair, Cas!" Dean said, eyes still on the ceiling. "For a long time, I thought he'd gone b'cause of me. Som'thing I'd done. Mom told me what happn'd when I was fifteen. That he cheated on'er." He snorted, shaking his head, as if in disbelief. "That he'd cheated, knock'd up the neighbor; the kid has the same age as Sam."

Castiel couldn't stop himself anymore. Slowly, he raised his hand and ran it through Dean's hair. The gesture of comfort was like a breaking a dam, because tears started to fall from Dean's eyes, and Castiel didn't know if Dean was aware of them, he was so lost in his memories.

"Sam kinda sympathizes with him," Dean said bitterly. "Even though he never called on birthdays or Chrissmas. He's been callin' Mom, 'n Sam says we need ta give'im a chance. I… I don't know if I can do that. Sam didn't had ta check if Mom hadn't offed herself at night, b'cause she cried so much that I…" Dean blinked slowly. "Didn' want her to leave us too."

Castiel had never touched anyone's hair before and he marveled at the silky texture. Dean didn't seem to mind, or wasn't aware of Castiel's hand on his hair. So Castiel didn't stop.

"Sam doesn' r'member. It's easy for him to forgive Dad. I can't, Cas. I just... I envy Sam. He's a lucky bast'rd. He has the perf'ct career, the perf'ct car, the perf'ct girl, he's gonna earn a lotta money and have the perf'ct house in N'York and mak'em all proud while I…" he sniffed. "Shit, I envy him so much."

Through everything, Castiel's head hadn't stopped pounding. But he had more important things to worry about, so he was trying to suppress the pain the best way he could. At Dean's words, a particular strong wave of pain made him blink several times to make it go away, but his hand didn't leave Dean's hair.

Dean shuddered, seeming to realize he was crying. "Shit. 'm stupid, Cas," he said, trying to clean his face with the back of his hand. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Castiel whispered.

"Ya're not gonna leave too, are you?" Dean asked, looking at Castiel with hazy eyes. "You can't, b'cause ya're my friend, 'kay?"

"I won't, Dean," Castiel vowed.

Dean raised his hand slowly and cupped Castiel's face. The other hand found its way to the back of Castiel's neck and Dean pulled him in a little. Castiel suddenly realized they were only inches apart. Dean's hot breath on his face smelled like alcohol, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was Dean, and nothing about him would be unpleasant to Castiel; ever.

"Ya hafta stay," Dean said, mouth so close to Castiel that he had to close his eyes at the onslaught of emotion that gripped him. "B'cause I care about ya, 'kay?"

Castiel could only nod, because if he opened his eyes and looked at Dean, he would lose himself in the other man, whose soul he was trying to protect at any cost. Not that there was any going back to him now; he was hopelessly devoted to Dean, and even if he didn't regret any of his actions until now, it was a new territory for him, and he feared the intensity of the emotions he felt because of Dean Winchester.

"'kay?" Dean insisted, mouth so close to Castiel's that he could almost taste it. "Promiss' me."

"I promise. I won't leave you," Castiel whispered, eyes still closed.

He felt Dean's soft lips on his, and there was nothing more in this world besides the feeling of Dean's lips: no Heaven, no Hell, no Earth. There was nothing more important than the feeling of the kiss and through the touch Castiel could feel Dean's emotions, a swirl of confusion, excitement and a tenderness so strong that made Castiel want to weep too.

It ended all too soon, but Dean still didn't let Castiel go. "Good," he said, almost to himself, and they stayed like that for a few seconds. Then Dean blinked slowly, shifting a little on the couch, so Castiel took his hand off Dean's hair and leaned away from him a little. Dean held Castiel's hand and put it on his hair again. "Feels good," he murmured sleepily, closing his eyes.

Castiel spent a long time with his hand on Dean's hair while Dean slept, his face finally relaxed, looking young and carefree. He smiled sadly, because he had wanted so much to protect this man, and couldn't. He'd never felt so much like a failure as now.

Dean had broken two of God's Commandments in one go.

_Observe the Sabbath day by keeping it holy._

_You shall not covet your neighbor's goods._

Castiel took a deep breath and sat on the floor. He had to find a way to stop Crowley. He had to find a way to protect Dean. Because if Dean kept on breaking God's Commandments like that…

He was going to die.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

_The LORD spoke to you face to face out of the fire on the mountain._

_And he said:_

_"I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery. _

_You shall have no other gods before me._

_You shall not misuse the name of the LORD your God._

_Observe the Sabbath day by keeping it holy, as the LORD your God has commanded you._

_Honor your father and your mother, as the LORD your God has commanded you._

_You shall not murder._

_You shall not commit adultery._

_You shall not steal._

_You shall not lie._

_You shall not covet your neighbor's wife._

_You shall not covet your neighbor's goods."_

_These are the commandments the LORD proclaimed in a loud voice to the whole assembly there on the mountain from out of the fire, the cloud and the deep darkness; and he added nothing more. Then he wrote them on two stone tablets and gave them to Moses._

_Deuteronomy, 5:4-22_

**THEN**

**Somewhere in Heaven**

Death, the Pale Horseman, the most powerful of The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, adjusted his tie and ran his thin hand over the right sleeve of his pristine, black suit. "What took you so long?" He asked.

The young angel in front of him looked uncertain. "I... was otherwise occupied," he said. "Observing my charge."

"You come when I call," Death roared, his voice like a thunder. "Are we clear about this?"

"Yes," the angel Castiel whispered. "We are, sir."

Death almost smiled. Almost. "Now tell me," he said, in a false soft tone. "Where is the soul I ordered you to collect?"

"I do not have it," the angel said. "I did not collect it yet."

"Well," Death rasped. "What are you waiting for?"

"Please, sir..." the angel's hesitant voice murmured.

"We have already talked about this, young one. And my answer now is the same it was before: no."

"But... but he is a good man!" the angel Castiel pleaded. "I do not believe his time has come, sir. Not yet! Give him more time, I beg you!"

"Sweet Lord," Death scowled, and then frowned and looked almost annoyed when a thunder was heard in the distance. "Aren't you a stubborn one?" he said. "I see you have plenty of initiative, young one. This could be considered a quality down on Earth, but in Heaven? You know the price for disobeying. Why do you insist?"

"I don't want to disobey, sir!" Castiel hurried to say. "I am merely asking you to reconsider your order to collect the man's soul!"

"Do not try to fool me!" Death snapped. "Trying to bribe me into accepting another soul in his place! Suggesting I accept the father, whose soul is tainted by adultery!" he yelled, stepping forward so his nose was almost touching the angel's.

Castiel tried not to flinch, and Death was strangely pleased by that. This one had a strong will; a mere foot soldier had strong will, something rare in a place where everyone was made to accept everything in blind obedience. What an unusual thing to find. He held the angel's stare, and because Castiel didn't look away, Death decided to speak in a softer tone for now.

"You know the rules. Everyone's time to die is already written in the book, from the moment they are born. Humans are finite beings, and when it's time for them to meet me, I order my angels to collect their souls. That's your job: obey. It's simple, and all your brothers and sisters do it without questions. Now this man...His time has come, and there is nothing you can do about it. What you_ can_ do, is collect his soul and bring it to me so I can take him to his judgment before the Lord. It has always been like this. You can't change the rules."

"I know I can't, sir," the angel, so docile until now, started suddenly to stand his ground, even though his voice was trembling slightly. "But _you _can," he stated, with a newfound confidence. "Please."

Death's face turned into a mask of anger. "Are you suggesting that I... 'bend' the rules to suit _your_ purposes? Do you know how serious this is, little angel?" he spat the last words, like a curse.

This time, Castiel flinched a little, but didn't give up. "He is a good man, sir. His soul is bright and unblemished. He loves his family, he lives for them. He is a good son, a good brother, a good friend. I believe he has yet a lot to accomplish in his life."

"Oh, he does? And how did you find the time to learn so much about him? Instead of bringing his soul to Heaven, you spent days and days observing him and you…you got _attached_ to the man! How foolish of you! Humans are fragile beings, and although our Father loves them, it is not wise to place any kind of affection on one."

"I am not attached. It is just that...with all due respect, I do not think it is fair to take his life now."

"Fair?" Death asked. "And what do you know about fairness? You have only a few thousand years, how dare you talk to me about the rules of Heaven when I helped our Lord to create a few of them myself? You are nothing compared to me, Castiel. _Nothing_. How dare you compare your pitiful existence to one who is older than time itself?"

"Spare him, sir. Please," the angel insisted. "I have never asked for anything for myself."

At that, a flash of interest passed through Death's eyes. "Indeed, you have never asked for anything. And I can't help but wonder why you decided to ask now. What changed, Castiel?"

Death started to walk around the angel, eyeing him critically, while the young angel stood his ground, albeit nervously. Then Death stopped in front of him again, eyeing him like a rare specimen in a lab and the angel lowered his eyes, as if waiting for punishment.

"Hum..." Death mused. "It just occurred to me that… since this man is so... noble as you say, I think I can spare him for a little while."

"Sir?" The angel murmured with hope in his eyes.

"Since he's so perfect, with such an...Unblemished soul, he can live without disobeying the Ten Commandments, don't you think?" Death went on. "Such a perfect man would live a life free of sin."

"The definition of sin has gone through many centuries and men's interpretation may be erroneous. Not every word that is in the Bible is exactly according to the Lord's wishes," The angel recited, quoting what he had learned when still a fledgling. "To sin and to disobey the Ten Commandments is not necessarily the same thing."

"Do not try to teach me my job, Castiel," Death dismissed the comment with a gesture. "Religions acquired a lot of stupid definitions of sin over the centuries. I'm talking about the Ten Commandments, and I think you know too well what they are. Now... your human is just that: a human. Therefore, he is prone to failure. So I will give him this one chance."

Castiel waited expectantly while the Grim Reaper seemed to ponder about his decision.

"You will not collect his soul before he disobeys the Ten Commandments. All of them."

"But sir… I don't think that will ever happen. He would have to kill someone. And if he doesn't, will you let him die of old age?"

"He's perfect, isn't he? Unblemished, you said?" Death's eyes shone threateningly. "If your charge manages to disobey the Ten Commandments, you bring his soul to me immediately, no questions asked. Am I clear? But if he doesn't… I guess I can let him live until he gets old."

"Yes, sir!" The angel simply answered, but it didn't escape Death's eyes how hopeful he sounded. "Thank you, sir!"

"Don't thank me yet, young one. For your audacity of questioning me and my work, you are banned from Heaven until you can bring me this man's soul."

Castiel blinked, stunned. "Banned?"

"Banned. He is yours to protect from now on. You can only come back when you bring him."

"But sir – "

"You can only come back to Heaven when you bring this man's soul with you. I'm curious about what would happen to his soul if he breaks all of God's laws."

"He would never – "

"You can't talk about it with him, or I will make sure he – and you, of course – will regret it deeply. I'm talking about eternal punishment here. One more thing: your Grace will be diminished, and you will not have access to any of your brothers and sisters, nor you will be able to communicate with the Host of Heaven."

Castiel could only stare at the Death. He was being punished for fighting against what he believed was an injustice and he couldn't understand how it could be wrong. He was an angel, and one of the angels' duties was protecting people, wasn't it? He just wanted to protect this man; to give him more years of life. Why was it so wrong?"

"You are dismissed now," Death said with disdain.

"What if he never disobeys all the Ten Commandments, sir? Will you let him live?" The angel asked, anxiously.

"I told you, Castiel. Of course he will live. But then _you_ will stay there in the mud with humans, Castiel. You will _feel_ and you will fear, just like them. You will eat, and sleep, and get dirty like them. If this man stays pure and clean, you are expected to bring his soul only when he is old and wrinkled, and you will stay many, many years away from Heaven. Perhaps banned, you will know your place and learn not to question me."

Castiel lowered his head, accepting his fate. He would not get discouraged. A lifetime away from Heaven would be hard, but he was an angel; he would be still alive even after the human race had vanished. So, because he believed Dean Winchester deserved to have a long fulfilling life, he would do what he believed was the right thing: he would protect the man and he would stay on Earth, guarding him, until he was old and dead. He would miss his home greatly, but he would not endanger his charge's soul just so he could return to Heaven soon.

"One more thing," Death said. "Every time he breaks a commitment you will feel the pang of your failure in your heart and you will know that disobeying me is useless."

"Yes, sir," Castiel said, full of confidence. Dean was a good man; he would _not_ break _all_ Ten Commandments in one lifetime. Castiel believed in the goodness of Dean's heart. He had seen tendrils of his soul, around him like a halo, and what he saw was beautiful, like Dean was alight from the inside. He would not let that light vanish in death and darkness.

Castiel had been in many battles in his long life, but this would be his first time on Earth as more than a mere observer. A change in scenery would do him good.

He could barely wait, actually.

Castiel vowed to protect Dean Winchester. And he would do his best.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, July, 2013**

The diner didn't open on Mondays, so Castiel spent the day looking for Crowley. Well, looking for John Winchester, in fact, because he wanted to see if Crowley still possessed the man.

He was still weak from the night before but he could still fly short distances and Lawrence wasn't a big town, so it wouldn't take him too long to find John.

Crowley wasn't using John's vessel anymore.

He found the older man in a bar on the outskirts of town. He was the only customer, because it wasn't even noon yet, and he was sitting on a booth, his arms cradling his face. He seemed very upset and was probably a little drunk, judging by the empty beer bottles beside him.

For a few minutes, Castiel debated with himself if he should go and talk to him. He didn't know what to say or how John would react, especially if he remembered Castiel from the other day. But if John had been awake when Crowley possessed him, as most demonic possession victims were, he must be desperate and scared that it would happen again.

"God, please, help me…" Castiel heard John saying, and all doubt left his mind. He knew he had to help.

He approached Dean's father slowly, and stopped by his side. "Hello," he said softly, not wanting to startle the man.

John moaned and didn't raise his head. "Go away, leave me alone."

Castiel grimaced. "John Winchester," he tried again.

That got John's attention. "How do you know my name?" he asked angrily raising his head. Recognition filled his eyes, then, and he deflated like a balloon. "Oh. You."

"May I sit? I need to talk to you."

"Did Dean send you?" John asked suspiciously.

"Dean doesn't know I'm here. I was looking for you."

John rolled his eyes impatiently. "Listen, pal, you can be my son's friend n'all, but leave me alone, will ya? I'm not in the mood for talking now, and I don't even know ya, so unless you're the waiter an'ya have anotha beer for me, just go."

"I saw your red eyes the other day," Castiel decided for the shock treatment. He could see whom Dean had learned his stubbornness from. "I know what happened to you."

John went very still, looking at Castiel with a thunderstruck expression. "Sit," he said, eyes very wide in his tired face.

Castiel sat in front of him and John studied his face for a moment, cautiously. Then he took a swig of his beer and put it on the table, empty. "Are you a priest? Pastor?"

"Neither. But I know a demon when I see one."

"It happened to you too?"

"No. But I have seen it happening countless times."

"And how can I be sure he… the demon, he didn't send you?"

"You can't. But I swear on God's name that I'm not a demon. I just want to help."

"Why?" John asked suspiciously. "You don't know me."

"I know Dean. I'm his friend. He's in pain because of the fight, and I know it wasn't your fault."

John rubbed his face, as if to wake from a bad dream. "I hoped it was a nightmare. That I had drunk too much. I – I woke up on this park bench and I couldn't tell how I had gotten there."

"Do you remember what happened"?

"I was in Minnesota when he came. Then I was here, calling Mary, stalking Sam and Dean. I was… I was awake most of the time, but sometimes I blacked out while this… this _thing _inside me walked and talked with my body and I… I just…" John hid his face in his arms again, his shoulders shaking in silent crying.

Castiel gave him a moment. "So you weren't coming back to Lawrence."

"God, no," John raised his head, his face a mask of pain and regret. "You must have heard what Dean said the other day. I c – couldn't come back, after what I did. I was ashamed. I didn't wanna see Mary and the boys again, because there's no excuse for my actions. I was young and stupid, and I cheated on my wife. I t – thought it was better to leave them in peace."

Castiel nodded. He couldn't read John's thoughts, but he could still feel the truth emanating from his words. He was sorry for his mistakes, and now he clearly was in need of someone he could talk to. Castiel would be that person, if only because this was Dean's father.

"I screamed and I begged him to let me go," John went on. "But the more I begged, the more he was pleased to torment me. He made me drive all the way here. I saw the boys," he sighed with a wistful little smile. "They're doing great. Dean always liked cars, so it's not a surprise he restores them. Sam's a lawyer, and Mary's still… still beautiful. I don't wanna mess with their lives again."

"Dean is a good man. He helped his mother raise Sam and paid for his education with his work in the garage. He is a very good mechanic, a specialist in restoring old cars. I feel very fortunate to be his friend."

"You take care of him, okay?" John seemed determined suddenly. "And Sam and Mary. I'm gonna get the hell outta here before that thing comes back."

"If he comes back there is no way to stop him from possessing you. There is a way to prevent that from happening, though."

"What do ya mean? That bastard won't get to me again. Not alive." John's eyes were angry and his hands were fisted over the table.

"You'd have to trust me and do as I say," Castiel looked inside John's eyes, trying to convey the 'I'm an angel of the Lord' look without actually saying it. He couldn't tell John who he was; but that didn't mean he couldn't help the older man.

"Do I have a choice?" John huffed a sigh. "You'n Dean seemed pretty close, walkin' together on the street, smiles n'all. And you know what a demon is. That's good enough for me."

Castiel went to the counter and came back with a pen. He drew a couple of Enochian sigils on a napkin and pushed it on John's direction. "Here. Put this on your skin. A tattoo would be more appropriate and effective. The demon won't be able to possess you if you have these symbols on you."

"How do you… how can I be sure this is not a demonic sign or somethin'?"

"This is the mark of God. Ask a priest if you want. But have this drawn on your skin as soon as possible."

John put the napkin inside his pocket. "As I said, I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

Castiel got up. "You always have a choice, John Winchester. You made the wrong one before, but I believe it's never too late to fix your mistakes if you truly regret them. Goodbye."

"Wait. Did you tell Dean about the demon?"

"He wouldn't believe me." And Castiel left the bar, his steps echoing in the almost empty place.

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, March, 2013.**

The task was a simple one: go to Earth, find Dean Winchester, make him die and bring his soul to Heaven.

But if asked, Castiel wouldn't be able to say why exactly he didn't want to follow that particular order. He had collected a few souls for the Grim Reaper before, and sometimes he did it reluctantly. But he had never failed to collect a soul before. He had never failed to do what was required of him in his whole life.

The whole system in Heaven relied on the angels' obedience**(**;**)** otherwise it would be a complete chaos. Someone always gave the orders – an archangel, Death, or even God himself – and the angels obeyed. It had always been like this since the beginning of time. Angels didn't disobey. If they didn't like their orders, either they fell or they conformed to the rules. The only one who had refused to fall was casted out to Hell, and there was nothing angelic in him anymore.

The first time Castiel saw Dean Winchester, he was getting out of his car, laughing at something his brother had said. He was like a beam of bright light with his big smile and relaxed expression; loud and larger than life. And Castiel was the one who would have to stop that smile, to kill that joy and take his soul.

He couldn't do it. He spread his wings and left for Heaven, and if the tip of a wing touched Dean's perfect face, the man thought it was the wind.

And the more Castiel came back to Earth, telling himself that he would take Dean with him, the more he couldn't do the job. Dean's soul was a mixture of kindness and loneliness, and sheer, unabashed love for his family, and it just took Castiel's breath away to see how perfect Dean seemed to be.

He decided to plead for Dean's life. Surely Death would understand that he couldn't kill someone full of life like that.

Death didn't understand. He even laughed at Castiel's face and told him to go back and do as he was told once and for all.

Dean was alone in the garage when Castiel came. He had his back turned to the angel and he was fiddling with what looked like a radio over an old table. The angel raised his hand to send his lethal blow.

Suddenly a loud music started playing and Castiel took a step back, mouth hanging open while Dean started dancing and singing, a wrench in his hand as a microphone.

"_You need coolin', baby, I'm not foolin',_

_I'm gonna send you back to schoolin',_

_Way down inside honey, you need it,_

_I'm gonna give you my love,_

_I'm gonna give you my love._

_Wanna Whole Lotta Love _

_Oooohhhh! "_

A burst of laughter exploded from Castiel, so unexpected that he almost let the cloak of his invisibility powers slip and revealed himself to Dean. It was the first time Castiel laughed in his full of obligations and very long life. And he liked how that made him feel. Not that angels were supposed to feel; they weren't, but Castiel didn't want to examine that particular thought.

Not now. Perhaps not ever.

That was the moment the angel Castiel decided he would never, ever, bring Dean's death. He would do everything in his power to make sure Dean stayed very much alive. Spreading his wings and taking one more look at Dean, who was still dancing like mad, Castiel went to meet Death once more.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, July 2013**

Dean's image remained in Castiel's thoughts the whole day. He decided to go back to the diner walking, so he would have time to think. The diner was very far from the bar where he'd just left John Winchester, but Castiel was an angel, and albeit weak, he was still stronger than the average human; he wouldn't get tired from a mere walk, not even one that long.

He kept his head down, lost in his thoughts about the night before. Especially the kiss. Part of him wanted to go looking for Dean and ask him if he'd really meant to kiss the angel. The other part was afraid of what Dean would say, because he'd been drunk and maybe he didn't remember the kiss. Or worse: maybe Dean remembered and regretted it.

It had been the first kiss of Castiel's life. As an angel, he had watched humans kissing before, but he'd never thought, not even for a second, that he would be kissed one day. Angels didn't kiss each other; they merely clasped hands and, if they were very intimate, really close brothers, they hugged.

But angels didn't kiss.

Angels weren't even supposed to want a kiss. But Castiel was starting to realize that a lot of things angels weren't supposed to do were the exact opposite of what he did. Maybe humanity was really growing on him.

The kiss had been everything Castiel didn't know he wanted. But, boy, did he want it. It had been perfect, because it had come from caring and from genuine emotion, not only physical attraction. Not that Castiel didn't feel attracted to Dean; it was impossible not to, because Dean was perfect, aesthetically speaking. But it was so much more than beauty, this pull he felt towards Dean. It was more than mere friendship, or desire to protect him.

Castiel was almost sure it was love. What else could it be?

Dean was sitting on the sidewalk, by the diner's door, when Castiel arrived home. He had his back resting on the wall and his legs were stretched before him, and he was looking at the sky, like he enjoyed doing so much.

Castiel stopped by the flower shop on the other side of the street. It was a quiet evening, and the street was calm, only a few people passing by, going home from work. Above Dean's head, the diner's sign was off, and it was almost sad to see all the lights out, the windows dark and looking abandoned.

The angel's human heart started beating fast; he wanted to cross the street, but his legs didn't want to cooperate. What if Dean told him to forget everything? How hard it would be to keep being Dean's friend, to look at him every day and know he would never kiss him again and –

Dean lowered his head, as if sensing Castiel's presence, and he got up fast, his eyes widening. "Cas…"

Castiel's legs started to move almost without him realizing it, and he finally crossed the street, stopping in front of the man. "Hello, Dean," he said, trying his hardest to hide the trembling in his voice.

Dean gave him a soft smile. "This was the first thing you ever said to me."

"I remember."

"I thought you were a wacko, then. All formal and speaking like you'd swallowed a dictionary."

"Do you still think that? Because I am sure I still speak like that."

"Yes," Dean said, fondly. "You do. But I don't think you're nuts anymore. This is just another thing that makes you… you."

They looked at each other, Castiel's cheeks burning at Dean's words. "Do…Um… do you want to come inside?"

Dean looked flustered, his cheeks reddening too. "Sure," he said, barely keeping his cool exterior.

Castiel walked to the alley beside the diner, and unlocked the back door. He got inside, turning on the lights on his way to the kitchen, Dean right behind him. "Um… do you want to sit at a table?"

Dean looked around, sitting on a stool near the kitchen counter. "Nah. Here is good."

Castiel sat on another stool, facing Dean. There were so many things he wanted to say, to ask, but none of them found its way to his mouth now.

"I looked for you," Dean said, looking at Castiel expectantly.

"I went for a walk."

"Dude, since morning?" Dean frowned, like he didn't believe Castiel. "I came here three times looking for you, man. No one answered. Were you avoiding me?"

Castiel eagerly shook his head no. "I wasn't!" he hurried to say. "I would never avoid you!"

Dean didn't look convinced. "It sure looked like you were, Cas."

The angel tilted his head to one side. "Why would I avoid you?"

Dean took a deep breath and ran a hand through his short hair. "Man, I gotta ask, because if I don't, I'll just explode. Did I… Did we…"

"You can ask me anything, Dean."

"I'm trying here, man!" Dean got up from the stool and started pacing the kitchen. "Did we… um… I think I drank a little too much last night and I… Um… I don't know how to say this, man."

Castiel's head was still tilted to his right and, at Dean's reluctance to speak, he started to fear the worse: Dean wanted to tell him to forget the kiss. He would have to pretend he didn't care, of course, to keep something akin to dignity.

Dean threw his hands to the air, looking exasperated with himself. "Okay, here it goes." He stopped in front of Castiel, but not too close. "Did we kiss last night? Because man, I'm almost sure I remember kissing you. It could have been another dream, but… n – not that I dream of you every night, I mean, I don't, only _some_ nights, b – but it's not in a creepy way and – "

"We did," Castiel interrupter Dean's avalanche of words. "We did kiss last night."

"We did?" Dean almost squealed, a mixture of relief and horror on his face. "That's, um… that's great! I mean, unless you think it was too much and, I swear I will leave you alone, I don't know what – "

"Dean, you're babbling."

The man looked at his shoes, his shoulders shaking in a small, self-deprecating laugh. "Yeah. I am."

"We did kiss last night," Castiel repeated. "I thought you wouldn't remember, because all of the beer you'd consumed before the kiss."

"I… Um… I hoped it was true. But I… I mean, if you're not into guys I'll back off, Cas, I swear."

Hope blossomed in Castiel's chest. "I'm utterly indifferent to sexual orientation."

"You are?" Dean asked, a slow smile starting on his face.

"Yes."

"Does it mean you, uh… you wanted it to be true?"

"It _was_ true, Dean."

Dean lost his patience. "Dude, I'm trying to tell you that I enjoyed kissing you without looking like a creepy guy who gets drunk and kisses everyone, because I'm not like that! Will you let me finish?" he suddenly widened his eyes. "Oops."

Castiel could feel his own eyes widening too. "You enjoy kissing me," he repeated, like a parrot, like all coherent thought had just fled his mind.

"Yep," Dean's slow, beautiful smile was starting again, and Castiel would give everything to see him always like that, confident and happy.

"You don't regret it**?**" Castiel asked, just to be sure he wasn't misunderstanding the whole thing.

"Not one bit."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Could…" Castiel got up from the stool and stopped right in front of Dean, 4, 5, 6 centimeters from his nose, to be precise. "Could you kiss me again?"

"Hell yes." And Dean's hands were on the sides of Castiel's face, and he was kissing him again, all soft lips and warm breath. This kiss was different from the first; there was heat in this one, so much that Castiel's hands, already curled on the back of Dean's neck, were starting to sweat.

Dean kissed him again, and again, and again. And each kiss was different from the previous one, and maybe Castiel should buy a notebook and categorize and describe all of them? Surely there couldn't be so many kinds of kisses like that. Perhaps Dean had some kind of power unknown to mankind, – angelkind, in this case – because each kiss made Castiel_ feel_, and it was glorious, wonderful, perfect. He wanted to keep kissing Dean forever.

They let each other go after some time, but kept holding each other close. "Does it mean I get to kiss you whenever I want?"

"I don't think it will be appropriate if we kiss in the diner, in the middle of my shift, Dean."

"Very funny, Cas. What I mean is, do we get to do this again?"

Castiel nodded eagerly. "Please, I would like it very much."

Dean kissed him again, their bodies close, legs almost intertwined. "I don't wanna hide this, Cas. I'm not the hiding kind."

"Neither am I," Castiel said, caressing Dean's hair like he'd done the previous night.

Dean closed his eyes. "Mmmm… I love when you do that. Hey, how come I woke up in my own bed this morning?"

"I – I took a taxi with you. Took you home and put you to sleep."

"Man, I don't remember any of it," Dean smirked. "You must have magical powers, then, because you didn't wake Mom or Sam."

Castiel shrugged, looking at his shoes. "I tried to be quiet."

"That you were. Hey, you hungry?" Dean was all smiles again, and he didn't wait for Castiel's answer. "C'mon, Mom made pasta with pepperoni yesterday and I bet there's still some in the fridge." He took Castiel by the hand and together, they walked to Dean's home.

And all the way, Castiel knew he had lied. There was no taxi; he had simply flown carrying Dean, from the garage right to his bedroom, and had left as silently as he's come. That was the reason he'd felt so tired today. His batteries were low, so to speak.

There was a weight in his chest that almost spoiled the happiness Castiel was feeling now. He couldn't tell Dean the truth. Who would believe Castiel was an angel? Who would believe there was a demon after Dean, and that he was breaking the Ten Commandments, walking without knowing, to his death?

Castiel couldn't tell the truth; Death had promised eternal suffering to Dean if Castiel told him anything. But Castiel could protect Dean, keep Crowley away from him, could be the best boyfriend in the world and try to make up for all the things about himself that Dean would never know.

He only hoped these secrets wouldn't come back to torment him one day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. _

_It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. _

_Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. _

_It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres._

_Corinthians 13:4-7 _

**THEN**

**The void of space and time**

Castiel had no memory of the moment he was created. He hadn't been born, he just _was._ And since he could remember, there was the Lord and Castiel's love for Him, pure and unalterable. It was everything he knew.

There was only Heaven, and everything was peace and contemplation of the word of his Father. But then, the Lord created Earth and everything that came with it: fauna and flora, sea and sky, day and night. The angels became enraptured by the new creation, and many ventured on Earth to see its peculiarities.

Then, the Lord created humans and gave Earth to them. The angels could not walk freely on Earth anymore, and on top of everything, the Lord told all of His angels to bow before humans and love them more than Him. At first, the notion was absurd, because the Lord was their _everything_. But angels had been made to obey, and so, they did it without complaint.

Not all of them, though. Castiel's most beautiful brother, called Morning Star, said that could never love anyone more than he loved their Father. He rebelled against the order, and for that, he was casted out of Heaven, sent to a horrid place under the world, and the Lord called it Hell. Some angels followed him, but the vast majority recoiled in fear of the greatest punishment an angel could imagine: being away from Heaven and deprived of their Father's love.

And that was what it was all about: love. In the name of his extreme love for his Father – or so he alleged – Morningstar had been casted out of his home. In the name of love – or envy, who knows? – for the human race, like the Lord had ordered, Castiel had seen some of his brethren fall.

And what to say about humans? In the name of love, he had seen them cry, suffer, perish, kill, die. All in the name of a feeling that left them raw, bleeding, vulnerable. To love was to suffer, to constantly be at the mercy of another. It was terrifying. He had never wanted to feel that.

Until he saw a soul so bright and beautiful that he couldn't ignore. Until the need to protect, the need to care for the man he was supposed to kill was bigger than everything. He still didn't know, but he fell in love with Dean Winchester the moment he saw him.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, July, 2013.**

The next couple of weeks passed so fast that Castiel barely noticed. Every spare moment he and Dean had, they spent together. It was like seeing the world for the first time, all over again. There were improvised 'picnics' at the garage, stolen kisses at the diner when no one was looking, nights watching the stars at the park. There were coffee dates, although Castiel didn't like coffee too much, and Saturday afternoons spent at the library, although Dean didn't like austere places where you couldn't even talk too loud.

Dean was fascinating; Castiel was completely and irremediably smitten by him. It was not just his kindness, his love for his family, the way he gave his best in everything he did; the way he treated Castiel, like he was important and rare.

Castiel's fascination was the little things too: like Dean's tactless and stupid jokes, his love for every single greasy and unhealthy food invented by men, his obsession for his car. Also the way he danced like crazy to his loud rock music when he was alone in the garage - or so he thought - the way his lopsided smile illuminated his whole face and how his eyes widened comically every time he saw Castiel wearing anything other that the diner's yellow apron. His bowed legs.

Life with Dean was everything Castiel never knew he wanted. Dean was funny, larger than life, noisy, brash, tender, considerate, beautiful, and_perfect_. Castiel was very much in love with him, although he hesitated to tell him, afraid of being too much, too soon.

Castiel had never wanted to fall; he had never wanted to love a human, whose life was so short when compared to his. But if these past weeks were any indication of how the rest of his life with Dean was going to be, Castiel would gladly live by his side until Dean was a hundred years old.

They were sprawled on the hood of the Impala again, lying on a thick wool blanked Dean had found in the trunk. Soft music, for once, was playing on the radio, low enough not to disturb the others at the park.

"I really like to spend time with you, Cas," Dean said between kisses, his head on Castiel's lap. "I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be."

"Me too, Dean. I enjoy your company very much."

Dean gave a small laugh. "You talk like my Grandma Deana. It's… God, I never thought I would use this word with someone, but here it goes: it's cute."

Castiel shrugged, a little self-conscious. "I can not speak otherwise. I find it very difficult to use the slangs and expressions of today's speech. Sometimes it seems to be a whole different idiom."

Dean pressed his hand on Castiel's cheek. "Hey, it's cute. I don't want you to change, okay? I like it."

"Thank you, Dean," Castiel said, sincerely. "Um… don't you have to wake up early?" he asked, looking at his watch – a gift from Missouri, because 'you can't _not_ have a watch, boy' – and seeing it was almost midnight.

"You know I don't sleep much," Dean retorted, and yawned immediately. "Crap," he snorted. "Okay, let's go."

They slid to the ground and, while Dean folded the blanket, Castiel sat on the passenger's side. Dean tossed the blanket in the back seat, sat behind the wheel and looked at him. "The truth is that it's getting harder and harder to say goodbye to you."

Castiel gave him a small smile. "I think we can stay a few more minutes…?" he said, and Dean pulled at his arm until their mouths were almost touching. "You're not the only one who does not want to say goodbye."

"That's good," Dean said, and Castiel could feel the hot puffs of his breath, the heat of his skin so close it left him lightheaded. "That's very good, Cas."

Dean's kiss had always left Castiel a little dizzy, since the first time, because there was so much more behind it than two mouths touching and exploring each other. There was a connection, something much deeper than what Castiel could see, even as an angel. It was as if their essences wanted to merge and become one. Being with Dean made Castiel feel as if he belonged to something vibrant, colorful and beautiful, made him feel _alive_.

Dean deepened the kiss, letting out a little moan, and he lowered the back of his seat, his arms pulling Castiel on top of him, the upper half of their bodies touching. Suddenly there was heat and Dean's mouth seemed to want to take all of Castiel's air from him.

Dean held the hem of Castiel's shirt and tugged a little, insinuating one hand under his shirt and resting it between the angel's shoulder blades. His other hand was at the back of Castiel's neck, holding it in place, just a little to the side so their mouths could fit better against each other.

It was overwhelming. Castiel felt as if there was a live wire under his skin, Dean's hand on his back leaving goose bumps on his flesh, his mouth burning hot, heavy and demanding.

"Cas," Dean murmured, "You're killing me. I want you so bad…" He interrupted the kiss only to suck lightly on Castiel's earlobe, and the angel whimpered, feeling his pants suddenly really tight.

"Dean…" he sighed, his hands on Dean's sides, trying to decide if said hands were going to lift his shirt or dive in his hair. "There's something I… I need to tell you…"

"What?" Dean said, the hand on Castiel's neck sliding lower to rest on the small of his back.

"I've… I've never… I… um…"

Dean muffled a groan and stopped, holding Castiel's head with both hands, making the angel look at him. "What, Cas? Come on, you know you can tell me," he coaxed gently, kissing at the tip of Castiel's nose.

Suddenly, Castiel's inexperience weighed on him like a ton of bricks. He knew, logically, that he didn't have a reason to feel embarrassed for being a virgin. But he wasn't sure what Dean would think of that, because he was more than aware that for all ends and purposes, he was a thirty-something year old man. And men his age weren't supposed to not know _anything _about sex.

"I… I never had occasion to… you know…err…"

"Cas?" Dean frowned a little, and suddenly it was like everything had fallen into place. "You… you never had sex, is that what you're trying to say?" Dean's puzzlement was evident, but he gently lifted Castiel's chin. "Hey… look at me…? What's going on?"

"That's it," Castiel admitted. "I've never had sex before."

"Wow," Dean said, a little astonished, but when Castiel looked down, he searched the angel's eyes with his. "Hey, no, no, listen… it's not a big deal, okay? There's nothing wrong with that."

"I don't want to disappoint you," Castiel said, embarrassed. He wanted Dean to genuinely like him, but having so little experience at being truly human, he was sure Dean would think he lacked experience to engage in something humans gave so much importance to.

"You would never disappoint me," Dean assured him. "It's just a little… unusual, but I guess with the way you were brought up… hey, it's actually a turn on, you know?"

"It is?" Castiel asked, hating himself for sounding so insecure. He was an angel, a warrior, why did he have to sound like a child? Why did he turn into a complete different person/angel whenever Dean was close?

"Are you kidding me? It's hot to know I will be the first to-" then Dean stopped, blushing furiously. "I mean, if you want me, that is. I don't want to assume anything; you don't have to feel pressured to" –

"Dean," Castiel gave a little laugh, all the tension leaving him at Dean's nervousness. "You're babbling again."

Dean sighed, smiling self-consciously. "Yeah, you seem to have that effect on me, Cas. Listen, I don't want you to" –

"Dean, I want to," Castiel said, looking at Dean with his usual intensity. "I really want to."

"You do?" Dean gave him a stupid looking grin, and Castiel caught himself automatically grinning back.

Castiel nodded, pulling Dean to him. "Yes," he murmured, and this time, he was the one initiating the kiss, that immediately escalated to a furnace because Dean's mouth felt so hot on his.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dean said, stopping suddenly. "Not like this."

"Dean?" Castiel looked at him, frowning, his head tilted to one side.

"Your first time won't be in my car, Cas. You deserve better."

Castiel bit his lip, finding it really difficult to hide his disappointment. "But I thought you wanted me."

"God, I want you, Cas," Dean chuckled, grabbing Castiel's hand suddenly and putting it on his crotch. "Does it feel like I don't want you?" he asked, boldly.

"Oh," was all Castiel could say at the evident bulge there.

"But not like this," Dean said reluctantly, taking Castiel's hand from his pants and holding it firmly. "I wanna do this right, okay? I don't wanna mess things up with you." He kissed Castiel firmly, but chastely this time. "Let's go, let me take you home."

"I don't want to…mess things up too," Castiel said. "But I have no experience in relationships, and I think that eventually I am going to disappoint you or make you regret being with me," he confessed, because he was already hiding too much from Dean. At least he could be sincere about how he felt.

"Hey, do I look like I know what I'm doing?" Dean asked, arching his eyebrows. "Cause I don't. But I like the way things are going between us, so let's keep it simple and honest, _capisce_?" he winked at Castiel, making the angel's heart flutter.

Dean wanted honesty, and that was something Castiel couldn't give him. Not completely. And love was anything but simple. Even so, the angel gave Dean a little smile. "Yeah, I _capisce_."

Dean adjusted his pants, grumbling a little – and Castiel adjusted his own with discretion, still in a little bit of awe because _that_ had never happened to him – and increased the radio's volume. He started to sing along, his relaxed posture taking all of Castiel's doubts away. They were alright.

The angel felt a little stupid, being worried about something so simple like sex. Castiel knew all the mechanics of it. Technically, it was only a question of giving and receiving pleasure. But he knew it was never going to be just that with Dean, because he felt _so much_ whenever he was with the man, that he had to admit, it left him a little apprehensive.

For most humans, sex was a big part of their lives, and theory was never the same as practice. He wanted to give Dean everything; he wanted to do everything, _be _everything, as long as Dean would keep smiling like that every time he looked at Castiel.

Dean held his hand all the way back. And Castiel didn't think of Crowley at all, not even for a minute, even though deep down he knew the demon was still a very real threat. He knew that was wrong and dangerous, but he wanted to be carefree just once in his life. Was he asking too much?

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, May 2013**

"Dude, you don't even look human here," Dean laughed, looking at the picture in Castiel's ID. "More like a robot."

Cas looked at the document in Dean's hand and shrugged awkwardly. "I don't like pictures. They make me uncomfortable."

"Castiel Angelus," Dean read. "You have a pretty cool name."

"It's a name like any other. Winchester is a little unusual too."

Dean smirked. "I know. '_Like the gun?_' everybody asks."

Apparently, Cas had no idea how to get a library card, and Dean volunteered to help him. That was why they were going to Lawrence's public library, walking side by side in a Friday afternoon.

"I can't believe you've never had a library card before. It's like you lived in an island, isolated from everything technology related," Dean joked, but seeing Cas' serious expression, he backpedaled. "Shit. Cas, I'm sorry, I didn't really mean it. You know me, I have a big mouth,and my brain doesn't filter the things I say."

"It's alright, Dean. I was really kind of isolated, I suppose. I… my family is very… religious. I was taught to obey at an early age, and it never occurred to me to question. Until recently."

"You mind if I ask you what happened? I don't wanna be nosy or anything, but you know so much about me – well, partly because I talk a lot, I know – but I know almost nothing about you."

Cas gave Dean a small smile. "I understand. And I don't mind at all that you ask. I'm just not sure I can give you a proper answer. There is a reason why I came to this city. I… was given an order by a superior, and I didn't… I didn't think it was a fair order, something reasonable. In fact, it was extremely unfair and it would hurt someone I came to… care about. And I just… couldn't do it."

"Shit, Cas, you sound like you're talking about the mafia here."

"I am sorry I cannot go into details. It is… painful to talk about this."

"Hey, no." Dean put his hand on Cas' arm. "If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to say anything."

But Cas seemed determined to talk now. "I had never left my home, not for long, and most of the times one of my… siblings was always with me. When… when I didn't obey, they just casted me out. Suddenly, I was on my own. One of my brothers brought me here, but he had to leave and… this is it. Nothing exciting, I'm afraid. You understand if I try to… avoid talking about it."

"I do, man, I do," Dean nodded sincerely.

"I feel like I have been living inside a shell, until now. Everything is… different from what I was used to."

"I get it," Dean assured Cas. "I have things I don't like to talk about, everyone does. It's okay, I'm not asking again, alright? Missouri says you're a good guy; you saved my life and everything…" he laughed. "You seem more like a nerdy baby in this trench coat than a Mafioso, anyway."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," Cas said, looking at Dean with his very big and serious blue eyes.

And… damn. That was Dean's weakness: Cas' serious, earnest expression, his blue eyes always scrutinizing Dean, like Cas wanted to read his thoughts.

He really liked Cas, he really did. Cas was a simple guy, who apparently had experienced his fair share of hard times in life. Dean could relate to that. He understood if Cas didn't like to talk about his past. Deep down, Dean felt he could trust the guy, so he decided to go with his instincts.

Dean and Cas, they… just clicked. Even though they were different like water and oil. Dean liked to talk, Cas liked to listen. Dean was loud and brash, Cas was quiet and polite. Dean liked to act first and think later, Cas… he seemed to be always thinking, so much that Dean could almost see the gears turning inside Cas' head.

And yet… being with Cas was good, comfortable, _easy_. It made Dean feel at peace, like he hadn't felt in a long time. Maybe he was starting to fall for the guy; maybe it was the beginning of one of those epic friendships. Who knew? And who cared? Dean liked Cas, and he would spend all the time he wanted by his side, because Cas apparently liked to hang out with him too, so why not?

"Dean…?" Cas asked, frowning.

Dean shook his head. "Sorry, man, I got distracted for a second there. Where were we?"

"Going to the library, I suppose."

"Yeah, right." Only then Dean realized he was still holding Cas' arm. "Um… want an ice cream?"

Cas looked at Dean like he had grown two heads. "Didn't you just eat a double cheeseburger before we left?"

"Come on, Cas, live a little. Tell you what, let's go to the library, then there's this place that makes a killer milkshake."

Cas didn't look like he wanted a milkshake, but he followed Dean willingly, shaking his head good naturedly all the way.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, July, 2013**

"Cas, help me!" Dean yelled. "I don't want to go!"

"Dean!" Castiel yelled too, but he was unable to move. Dean was crying, pleading, begging for help, and Castiel was paralyzed, unable to do anything.

_You shall not misuse the name of the LORD your God._

And there was the thunderous voice again. Dean fell on the ground and started screaming in pain.

_You shall have no other gods before me._

"Stop!" Castiel yelled, but the voice continued, and Dean screamed, and Castiel's heart ached so much he thought it was going to explode. Desperate, he started to call Dean's name over and over, praying that the pain would stop, but nothing happened.

Then a voice Castiel unfortunately knew too well, said from somewhere beside him; "Hello boys, did you miss me? I've come to get my prize."

"Crowley!"

Castiel woke up covered in sweat, panting, with the pain in his heart still there, strong and piercing. He looked at the clock, and it was barely one AM. He had been asleep for less than an hour.

Dean had caught a cold and had stayed home. It was Tuesday, the diner had closed early, so Castiel had gone to bed earlier than usual, only to have that bad dream again. But the last time Crowley hadn't appeared, in the nightmare. What did his appearance mean?

Whatever the reason for his presence in the dream was, at least it made Castiel realize something: he had been acting carelessly. What right did he have to enjoy life with Dean, when the man's life was still in danger? He was a warrior; he should know better. A warrior should never let his guard down, and that was what Castiel had just done. Love had blinded him, made him reckless. He had forgotten the basics of being in a war: constant vigilance.

What kind of angel was he if he couldn't remember his mission? He was meant to protect his charge, not fall in love with him.

'_But you aren't an angel anymore, are you? At least not completely,' _a little voice inside his head said. Immediately, he shook his head as if to make the thought go away. Self-pity would do him no good. While he was sitting in his bed, reproaching himself, Crowley was probably plotting a new attack; it was a wonder he hadn't done anything new yet.

He needed to act, to neutralize the demon, the sooner the better.

…

Castiel found John at the same bar, drinking the same brand of cheap beer. "You didn't leave," he commented, sitting in front of the man.

John barely looked at him. "How can I, when I know that thing might still be around?"

"Did you get the tattoo?"

John pulled at his sleeve, showing his upper arm to Castiel. "Is it good enough?"

Castiel examined the black tattoo, the pentagram and a few sigils he had added for good measure, everything exactly like the drawing he'd given John. "It's perfect. He can't possess you anymore."

"Somehow this doesn't make me feel any better."

"That's why I came to find you" Castiel looked at the older man determined. "I need your help."

"Doing what?"

"Defeating the demon."

John gaped at him. "You're not joking."

"I'm not." He wished he was. There was a time when a simple touch on Crowley's forehead could incinerate the demon from inside out. Well, not anymore. "But I can't do it alone."

"Can you even do it?" John asked, shaking his head. "Are you even _sane_?"

"If it bleeds, it can be killed."

"What about the person he is possessing?"

Castiel shrugged uncomfortably. "We can try not to harm him, but… there is a possibility that we'll have to deal with this one casualty."

Castiel hated to have to ask for help. But he was almost Graceless, there was so much fragility in this human body, when compared to his old self, that he could almost _see_ his own uselessness. He could still fight with his old agility, but he doubted it would make any difference against a demon, the king of the crossroads, no less.

He hated how he had defeated Crowley centuries before, but had been ordered not to kill him. Raphael had ordered him to imprison Crowley, to teach him a lesson. Castiel should have disobeyed that. He now understood what he couldn't before: that not all his orders had been for a good cause. If he had killed Crowley, this wouldn't be happening.

John was strong and intelligent; he also had an anti-possession tattoo. They could succeed if they could come up with a plan. He didn't care if Death or any other angel would be angry with his intromission, but the moment Crowley threated Dean, he stopped being Heaven's business only; he was Castiel's business now. And John's, because Dean was his son, after all.

"He is a demon, he wouldn't give up. I am sure he is up to something as we speak. And don't forget nor Dean neither Sam have any idea he's around or how to fight him. Not to mention your wife."

"Ex-wife."

"Ex-wife, sorry."

"We could die trying."

"Wouldn't you die for your family, John Winchester?" Castiel squinted at John. "Didn't you say you wanted to atone for your sins?"

"What about you? Why would you die for Dean?" John asked suspiciously.

Castiel didn't hesitate. "He is my best friend. I would die for him in a heart beat."

"So you and him are – "

"Friends." Castiel thought it was better not to go into details. Dean's life was private, and he wasn't sure the man would want his father, of all people, to know they were together. **"**And does it matter now? I think we have more important things to discuss."

John sighed. "I guess not. You're right. I need to do something right for once on my life."

"I'm glad we are on the same page, then."

"So… how do we do it?"

…

"_In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."_

Castiel started the summoning ritual with his heart thumping in his chest. If this didn't work, things would get ugly pretty fast.

"_Pro sanctis Angelis et Archangelis, qui in cælo habitant."_

They had chosen an abandoned house to do the summoning, in a neighborhood not too friendly, because no one would be frightened by screams, and Castiel suspected there would be many. The angel was counting on the fact that Crowley had no idea John had gotten the anti-possession tatoo. That and the sigils Castiel had drawn on John's wrist that morning with a black marker, would keep him protected, because Crowley wouldn't feel his presence until it was too late. _If_ Crowley weren't stalking John, because if he were, they were already doomed.

As he spoke the latin words that summoned demons, he thought again about all the variables that needed to go right for this to work. They were too many, but Castiel didn't see any other way. Something had to be done about the demon, and soon, so there wasn't really any other choice but to do what he and John had agreed.

Sending a silent prayer to his Father for help, he finished the spell: "_Armatum caelestis auctoritas, imperium apparebit Crowley!"_

"Oh, really? _Again_? Have you never heard of giving up?" Crowley looked at the devil's trap he was standing on and rolled his eyes. "This is getting old."

Castiel looked at the short, chubby man, dressed in an expensive suit. "Crowley."

"That's me, honey. Like my new meat suit?"

"I want to make a deal."

Crowley arched his eyebrows. "Straight to the point, as always. I like that about you. But really? A deal with me? Do you think I'm gonna fall for that one?"

"I think you will at least listen, because I am willing to give you what you want."

"And that is…?"

"Me."

There was a pause, in which the demon simply looked at the angel, squinting. "Wow. I didn't see that coming. Why would you do that?" his tone was skeptical.

Castiel took a deep breath. "Because you're right. I love Dean Winchester, and I cannot let you harm him. Therefore, I am willing to put myself in your… hands, as long as you leave him alone." That much was true, anyway. Castiel was completely in love, and if their plan didn't work tonight, he would really make a deal with this filthy creature, so Dean would have a chance at a long life.

The demon frowned. "See? That's what I always say; love is a bad thing. It accomplishes nothing but misery. If it were any good, people wouldn't be so willing to die in its name. Frankly, Castiel, I thought you were better than this."

"Do we have a deal?"

"No so fast, hotshot. I want to know what you will gain from this. And why you didn't do it before."

"I hadn't… realized the extents of my feelings before."

"So you thought you should just come and open your heart to good old Crowley here?" the demon asked, with a chuckle.

"I still despise the very air you breathe, demon," Castiel said with contempt. "But I will do what I have to do to save Dean."

"Well, well, well, never thought I'd see the day. How the mighty have fallen."

"Do we have a deal?" Castiel insisted.

"You do realize that what awaits you down there is nothing but pain, don't you?" Crowley smirked. "Because once we seal the deal, there will be no way back. And everyone in Hell will want a piece of your wings, just to show as a trophy, even though you're not completely powered up."

Castiel actually gulped. If it would come to that, he would do it without a second thought. Still, it wasn't something he would ever look forward to. "I am aware," he said.

Crowley smiled, seeming satisfied with himself. "Shall we seal our deal with a kiss, then?" Castiel took a step forward, but the demon shook his head. "Nuh-uh. First you let me out of this devil's trap. Oh, and put your pretty blade on the floor on the other side of the room. How naïve you think I am?"

Castiel grimaced. "If I let you go, you will run."

"And lose the opportunity to take your pretty little face to Hell with me? Come on, baby, I'm a demon of my word."

"There is no such thing," Castiel muttered, but he walked to the other side of the empty room and slowly put his angel blade on the floor.

"Now let me out of this thing."

The angel walked slowly to the demon and, with the tip of the shoe, he erased part of the line drawn on the floor.

"Good, good. Now, honey, give me a kiss." Crowley beamed, opening his arms to Castiel. "What are you waiting for?"

Castiel took another step and he was face to face with Crowley. So close that just a few more centimeters and they would kiss. "I'd rather die."

"Huh?" The demon frowned, puzzled.

"Look up," Castiel whispered. And there, on the ceiling, another devil's trap was painted with beige ink, barely visible, but there nonetheless.

"Are you kidding m – "

"John!" Castiel yelled.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," John's strong voice resounded through the room. "Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica."

Crowley started to scream, covering his ears with his hands. "No! Stop this! Stop this right now!"

Castiel ran to the other adjacent room and came back with a bucket of holy water that he threw on Crowley. The demon fell on the floor with a scream, and Castiel started chanting along with John, that had been waiting, hidden in a cupboard under the stairs, and now was beside Castiel, reading from a book.

"Ergo, draco maledicte. Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos."

Crowley writhed in agony on the floor, screaming and looking around as if trying to **e**scape. Castiel grabbed his blade and pressed it to Crowley's neck.

"Exorcizamus te," John started again, "Omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, draco maledicte"

Castiel kneeled close to the demon at the same time a red smoke started to leave the body of the man he was possessing. "Leave this poor man, unclean and unworthy creature. Your death is inevitable," he murmured, and he buried the knife in Crowley's thigh, making all the smoke leave the body, that fell on the floor.

"Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos." John finished for good measure, and the red smoke tried to escape through the window, but Castiel was faster, slashing through it with his blade. The smoke evaporated instantly, with a loud bang noise and a strong wind, and everything went quiet and still.

"You and him seemed pretty familiar with each other," John finally said.

"I have dealt with him before," Castiel admitted.

"And you didn't die? Wow, you don't happen to be the Van Helsing of demons, do you?" John asked, looking around.

"I don't understand that reference. And defeating him was too easy."

John's eyes almost popped out of his head. "You out of your mind? For a minute I thought you were really gonna kiss the bastard.**"**

"It was too easy," Castiel repeated. "Everything went accordingly. But it was too easy, we didn't even have to fight him."

"I'm glad, because we wouldn't have lasted much. You know how strong that thing is?"

"Demons are cunning creatures, I'm amazed he fell for our bluffing."

John snorted. "He was a victim of his own pride, man. Thought you were alone, you offered him a deal and all."

"Perhaps. But we better keep our eyes open for a while. Don't let your guard down until you're sure he's really gone."

"I, um…" John hesitated. "I didn't hear everything you said, but… you really feel like that about Dean?"

Castiel looked at John with unflinching sureness. "I would die for him if it was required of me."

"But why would you need to die for him, man? I mean, the demon was after me, right?"

"Dean is your son," was all that Castiel said, not wanting to lie but unable to go into details.

"Shit, you're right. If he tried to possess me and realized he couldn't… he would turn to one of the boys or Mary."

"We needed to take this man to the hospital," Castiel said, looking at Crowley former host and anxious to change the topic.

"Nah," John shook his head. "Better if no one sees us with him. I'll call 911 and they'll come get him."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Listen, what the hell was that talk about wings?"

Castiel felt his insides turn cold, but he kept an impassive face. "I thought you'd said you didn't hear everything we said. Maybe you heard wrong."

"Yeah, maybe," John grimaced and grabbed his cell phone. "Hello, 911?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Set me as a seal upon thy heart,_

_as a seal upon thy arm:_

_for love __is__ strong as death;_

_jealousy __is__ cruel as the grave:_

_the coals thereof __are__ coals of fire,_

_which hath__ a most vehement flame._

_Many waters cannot quench love,_

_neither can the floods drown it:_

_if a man would give all the substance of his house for love,_

_it would utterly be contemned._

_Song of Songs, 8:6-7_

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, May, 2013**

Over a month after Dean had almost died and Cas had saved him, Dean realized that he really liked the guy. Like, really, _a lot_. It was almost funny that he'd once thought Cas was a danger to Missouri - well, he was just being protective of his friend, okay? A guy appears out of nowhere and... But that was not the point. The point was that Dean really liked Cas, and what do you do when you really like someone? You introduce them to your Mom.

Well, he _had_ to invite Cas. What else can a man do when his friend refuses to eat? And working in a diner, of all places? It's like having all the air in the world and refusing to breathe.

"Dude, you sure you're not gonna eat that?" he asked, eyeing the hot dog Cas had left almost untouched on his plate.

"You can have it," Cas said, eyeing Dean with something like amazement. "But maybe I should remind you that you just ate a double bacon cheeseburger and two slices of pie."

"Man, I'm not letting this amazing hot dog go to waste," Dean said with his mouth full, and wasn't it great that Cas didn't care about Dean's manners, like Sam and Mom? "You barely eat, and at this rate you're gonna get thinner than that broom over there."

"That is impossible, the broom is just" –

"Cas, this is a joke!" Dean rolled his eyes good-naturedly and gave a small laugh.

"Oh."

They were alone in the diner – except for the cook – in one of the many late nights when Dean was eating and Cas was cleaning, and they were talking about nothing and everything. Only, today, after Cas admitted he hadn't eaten anything the whole day except for a donut, Dean had made him eat something.

"Hey, boys, I'm leaving, okay? You want anything else, Dean?" Rufus, the cook asked from behind the counter.

"No, thanks, man! Take care!" Dean smiled while Cas waved at the older man.

Cas got up to lock the door after Rufus left. He stood by the glass window and scratched his chin. "I still need to clean the tables," he murmured, absent-minded.

"Come on, man! Live a little! I'll help you if you give me one more slice of that apple pie."

Cas looked at Dean in disbelief. "No, Dean, I'm not giving you anything, not even a glass of water. You're going to get sick if you eat so much!"

"Says who?"

Cas rolled his eyes, then looked at Dean pointedly. "The kitchen is closed. If you want more pie, you go get it and wash your own dishes."

"All right, smart ass... But at least I'm not like you; I don't frown and faint at the simple mention of a good, greasy cheeseburger. I bet you would love one of Sam's salads, and it makes me really sad, Cas. That rabbit food is gross, you have no idea. Sam's taste buds are probably… atrophied, from lack of work or something like that."

"Food is not so important to me, Dean. There are other more important things in the world," Cas said, grabbing Dean's empty plates and glasses and taking them to the kitchen.

Dean followed him. "Like what? Come on! You work at a freaking diner, Cas! And the food here is great! I would eat here every day, man!"

"You _do eat_ here every day," Cas replied, matter-of-factly. Then he looked at Dean with a funny, almost lost expression. "The fact is that... I've tried everything on the menu at least once, and I can definitely say that fast food is not my favorite kind of food. I've been here for weeks, and I think that, apart from donuts and hamburgers, I'm tired of everything else." Cas' expression was endearing, like a lost boy in a big supermarket, and Dean felt a fluttering in his chest.

So, Dean did the only thing a good friend could do: he invited Cas to have dinner at his home on Sunday night, because Mary made a killer gnocchi dish and Cas would love some homemade food. Besides, Sam would get his panties in a twist if Cas never got to see his books and his videogames and if he wouldn't have the opportunity to show Cas the - disgusting - tofu salad or whatever-the-fuck Sam ate.

Cas showed up at Dean's door at precisely eight, in his horrendous tan trench coat, a cheap black suit and with his tie practically unknotted. It would have been funny if it wasn't completely cute.

"I hope I'm not late," he said solemnly, before stepping into the house.

"Who, you?" Dean joked. "You're twenty-seven seconds late, actually."

Cas widened his eyes. "I'm sorry! I" –

"Joking, Cas," Dean patted Cas's back. "Relax, will you? Come on, gimme your coat."

It didn't take long for Sam to kidnap Cas to his study, where his impressive and unnecessarily huge bookcase awaited to be venerated. "Check this out, Cas! I have all Stephen Hawking's books!" Dean waited, leaning at the study's door with a bored expression, while Sam showed off to Cas and talked about this and that, everything nerdy-geeky-related, obviously.

But in fact, Dean just stayed there, observing with a fond expression, while Cas ran his hand over the cover of Sam's books almost reverently, and noticing how Cas managed to keep up with Sam, huge book worm that he was, talking about any topic Sam brought up; from History to Theology to Philosophy and all the shit Dean always thought it was boring as hell. How could a guy that intelligent work as a busboy in Missouri's diner?

The fact was that Dean didn't know anything about Cas. Not really. Sure, he knew his last name and where he was from, but… it was like he never get tired of learning more about him, because everything about the guy seemed interesting even though it wasn't anything amazing, just a normal shitty childhood. Dean could relate.

He knew that Cas was weird, awkward, had zero to none people skills and no popular culture at all, and when he stared at you, it was with an intensity that made you feel scrutinized and a little uncomfortable. But he also knew that Cas was quiet, well-mannered, always eager to help, and he was a direct, right-to-the-point, no-bullshit kind of guy. Also, there was this thing about him that made Dean talk, and talk, and talk, telling Cas everything about his life, while Cas talked so little about his own.

All in all, Dean liked him. A lot. As a friend, of course, – _only as a friend, Dean, get your shit together_ – but Cas was really cute with his rumpled clothes and his disheveled hair, and Dean had to admit he had never met someone he liked so much in such a short time.

"Let the guy breathe, Sammy," he said after a while, pulling Cas by the arm towards the dining room. "Come met Mom, Cas." He stopped in the hallway, fixing Cas' tie and shirt, and felt his cheeks getting red, because Cas was looking at him with so much gratitude that it would be funny if Dean's stomach hadn't made a flip-flop at the intensity of his stare.

Cas looked at Mary solemnly, and Dean was sure Mary was almost drooling at his manners, because she seemed delighted when he shook her hand. "It's a great pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Winchester."

"Call me Mary," Dean's Mom said, all smiles, evidently pleased with Dean's choice of a friend. This time, at least, because she'd never liked Andy or Ash too much. "Dinner's almost ready."

By nine, they were all in silence, while Mary said grace before eating. "Lord, we thank you for this food we are about to receive. We know you are in Heaven with your angels, watching over us. Bless this house and the people who dwell therein, and allow us to live in your love. Amen." Dean noted that Cas was a little uncomfortable when Mary mentioned God and His angels, but he shrugged it off as one of Cas' oddities.

Usually, Dean ate a lot. A. Lot. But Sam ate even more, only his food was 'healthy', instead of edible. So, Mary's dinners were planned to please her two sons. Today, there was gnocchi casserole, meatballs, Caesar salad, tofu stir-fry and for desert, fruit salad. As always, there was a lot of food.

"Tell me more about yourself, Cas," Mary said, smiling. "Cas is such a peculiar name."

"My name is Castiel, actually," Cas said, distractedly, looking completely in love with the gnocchi casserole on his plate.

"And your last name?" She insisted.

Cas munched on his food slowly and hummed, clearly pleased at its taste, then took a sip of water. "Angelus," he said, after a while.

"That's 'angel' in Latin," Sam, the eternal nerd, pointed out. "And hey! Get this, Dean, Castiel is an angel, isn't it?"

"The Angel of Thursday! I love angels," Mary said, delighted. "Did you know Dean was born on a Thursday?"

Dean could tell Cas was a little bit uncomfortable. The guy didn't like to be the center of attention. He patted Cas' back. "Man, your parents really like angels, don't they?"

Cas seemed to hesitate a bit. "I told you, my family is very religious."

Mary looked at Cas smiling, but gave Dean a stern look when he put more meatballs on his plate. "Oh, that's good! No wonder you're so polite! Only religious people would give a beautiful angel name to his child!"

"Mom," Dean rolled his eyes. "Let the guy eat in peace."

Mary pretended she didn't hear him. "What about your parents, darling? Do you have any siblings? Do they have angel names too?"

"Yes, M'am, they do," Cas answered. "Um... My father is... very busy. I haven't seen him in a long time. My brothers, they...work a lot too."

"Come on, Mom, what is this? Twenty questions?" Dean laughed nervously, seeing Cas reluctant about answering. "Let him breathe."

But Cas surprised him, looking at Mary and Sam with a bit of sadness in his eyes. "I was recently...demoted from my previous position in the… family business. Mrs. Moseley is a friend of one of my brothers and kindly offered me a place to stay." It was clear that Cas wasn't going to answer anything else about his family. He slowly and politely cleaned his mouth with his napkin, his plate completely empty now. "Thank you for the dinner, Mrs. Winchester. It was delicious."

"Come on, let's see my DVD collection," Dean hurried to say. In fact, he didn't like that his mother was questioning Cas like that. He understood it was just Mom being a mom, but Cas clearly didn't like to talk about himself. Something bad must've happened to make Cas so closed off about his past. Dean wasn't going to probe. He didn't like to talk about the 'bad' moments of his life either.

Even after Cas saved Dean's life, he was a bit reluctant himself in letting his suspicions go, but only for a while. Missouri had insisted that Cas had a '_kind heart and was honest to a fault_', and well, the woman was psychic, wasn't she?

It was only when they reached his bedroom that Dean realized he was holding Cas' hand. He let it go, awkwardly pointing to his bookcase where, instead of books, a huge collection of DVDs was displayed.

"You seem to like science fiction a lot," Cas commented, looking at the titles.

"Well, you know, as a Jedi Master I can't brag, young padawan... But my collection rocks," Dean finished, with a wink. When Cas looked at him with a blank expression, Dean widened his eyes. "Dude, not even Star Wars?"

Cas shook his head. "I don't understand that reference. I'm sorry."

Dean whistled. "Boy, you weren't kidding when you said your family was super religious. It's like you lived in a cave. What did you do to have fun?"

Cas shrugged, nonchalantly, but his eyes looked sad. "I never had occasion to have fun. I was...always working. I'm sorry; I must seem really boring to you."

"Hey, no." Dean's hand flew to Cas' shoulder on its own volition, it seemed. "Stop that. You're pretty cool, alright? And, uh...about Mom... I'm sorry for all the questions, man. I can tell it's a touchy subject for you."

"Your mother was only taking care of you. It's only fair that she knows about me, since we've been recently spending a lot of time together."

"Well, I'm a grownup. I can choose my own friends."

"I'm very glad you consider me your friend, Dean," Cas said, and Dean realized they were very close and they were alone in his bedroom and – wait, Sam had actually chuckled when Dean and Cas left the dining room, and Mary had smirked a little.

_Oh my God_, what were they thinking? Dean would never jump on Cas in his own bedroom, while his mother and brother were in the living room! Not that he didn't want Jump Cas. I mean, not that he _did_ want **to**. Well, he _didn't_, did he? He barely knew the guy. But Cas, with all his cute awkwardness and his messy hair and perpetual stubble, seemed to pull Dean towards him every time they met. Dean was starting to admit that he maybe had a crush on Cas. Just maybe. Just a tiny bit.

**NOW **

**Lawrence, Kansas, August, 2013.**

"In large bowl, beat half of a cup of granulated sugar and the egg with wire whisk until light and fluffy. Beat in 2 tablespoons of flour and 1 teaspoon of vanilla. Beat in cooled butter. Gently stir in the apples. Pour into – Dean!" Castiel complained, but there was no heat in it.

"Sorry, Cas, but you have flour in your hair."

"In my _hair_, Dean, not on my mmmph!"

Dean kissed Castiel a lot. Not that he was going to complain, he actually enjoyed Dean's kisses very much. But he was concentrating here, trying to make an apple pie from scratch, and Dean was making his progress very difficult.

"Dude, are you complaining?" Dean gave him a lopsided smile. "If I was the kind of boyfriend that didn't like PDA, _then_ you should complain."

Castiel tilted his head. "PDA?" He still felt a flutter in his stomach every time Dean said the world 'boyfriend'.

"Public displays of affection."

"We're not in public, Dean."

"We're in my mom's house. She could walk in and see us kissing any minute now."

"It's your house too. And she would see me trying to bake and you not letting me."

"Cas, shut up or I'm not kissing you ever again."

"My apologies," Castiel said, and this time he was the one leaning for another kiss, a soft one. Now there was flour in Dean's hair too, so that meant they were even.

But Dean didn't let Castiel go so easily. With his hands on the sides of Castiel's face, he trapped him against the counter. "Come on, Cas, just a little make out. We're entitled to do that, we're dating."

Who would be able to resist a request like that? Castiel surely wasn't.

Since Crowley's death, things were calm and life ran its course, as if it had never been a demon among them. Castiel spent almost two weeks waiting for something bad to happen, but nothing did. He was still suspicious that he and John had managed to defeat the demon in the first try, but apparently, that had happened.

He wasn't used to relax and enjoy things, like Dean always told him to do. But now that Dean's death wasn't imminent, and the Ten Commandments thing didn't loom over Castiel's head anymore, it was getting progressively easier to do just that: live.

It was easy to pretend that he was just a regular man, dating someone he loved, and happy for the first time in his life.

Castiel liked very much that Dean was affectionate, and just like he'd said, Dean didn't hide that they were together. His mother had actually gone to the diner one afternoon just to tell Castiel how happy she was that they were together. Sam treated him like a long-time friend, and said once that they were almost brothers now. And Missouri…

Well, when Dean and Castiel decided to tell her and appeared in the diner holding hands, Missouri had given Dean a hug and a kiss on the cheek. But she had dragged Castiel to the kitchen and looked at him sternly. "You're not gonna hurt that boy, you hear me?"

"I have no intentions of hurting Dean, ever," Castiel had assured her.

"What if you decide to leave one day? I don't know why you came here, boy, and I never asked. I can feel there's 'good' in you, so we treat you like our own here. But you hurt Dean and I will personally kick you out of Lawrence, you hear me?"

"I can assure you I'm never leaving Dean's side. Not unless he asks me to. I love him," Castiel had declared, because it was true and because Missouri apparently needed that reassurance from him.

Her eyes had softened instantly and she had patted his cheek lightly. "Alright. I'm glad we had this conversation."

Now, almost a month later, they were happily settled in a new routine that, to Castiel, was more than perfect. Well, nothing was really new in their routine. Dean still didn't sleep much, still went to have breakfast and dinner at the diner, still worked with classic cars, and Castiel still used his yellow apron while he helped Victor and Gordon at the diner. Only, now Castiel, always so serious, laughed a lot, and everything seemed better, brighter, and funnier. Maybe Castiel was getting used to being human – well, almost human. Or maybe it was the fact that Dean's presence made the whole world a better place.

Castiel had never been happy, truly happy in his life. Happiness wasn't for angels. But he was not an angel anymore, not completely, at least for now. So, he was going to enjoy his happiness while it lasted.

One day, Dean would get old and die, and Castiel would take him to Heaven. Who knew if Dean wouldn't get angry at being lied to about who Castiel really was? Who knew if his soul would still want to be around the angel? It was a risk, but there was no other way.

In the meantime, Castiel was going to enjoy Dean's proximity and try to make the man happy. Which was why he was currently baking him an apple pie. Or, he was trying to.

"Dean, we**-"**

"You look cute with your clothes all rumpled like that."

"You were the one who grabbed at my cloth-**"**

"And there's flour on your cheek and nose."

"You're not exactly clean yourself."

"And I want to kiss you again."

"But you just kis-**"**

"But my stomach is growling and I think I was promised an apple pie."

Castiel glared at him. "If you don't let me finish, you will never have your pie, Dean."

"Alright, alright, sorry!" Dean took a few steps away from Castiel and raised his hands in a surrendering gesture.

Castiel picked up the cooking book and started to read aloud. "In a medium bowl, stir together all streusel ingredients except the butter. With a pastry blender or fork, cut in one-fourth cup of butter until the mixture looks like coarse crumbs. Sprinkle over the apples. Place the pie on a cookie sheet in the oven – Dean!"

Dean laughed, and it sounded like music to Castiel's ears. "Sorry, Cas, but you have flour on your hair."

"_Again? _Dean, as much as I like to kiss you, this is totally counterproductive and… mmmph!"

The pie took more than three hours to get ready, it got a little burnt on the edges, but it tasted good.

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, June, 2013**

"Dean, I can't believe it! This is terrible!" Cas' eyes were huge in his face, and he clutched dramatically at his chest, his disbelief more than evident.

"I know, Cas, I know," Dean said, mournfully. "I still can't believe myself, even after all this time."

"But… Are you sure this is not a bad joke? Are you sure this is real?"

"You saw it, man. You saw it too, this is the real deal, and we gotta accept it."

Castiel got up from the sofa and started pacing the living room. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know how to say this without leaving you upset. You were too invested in the whole thing."

"This changes everything. Nothing will ever be the same after this."

Dean nodded curtly. "I know."

Castiel sat on the sofa again, eyes fixed on the TV. "I can't believe Darth Vader is Luke's father."

"Yeah, I feel your pain, man. I was shocked when I watched The Empire Strikes Back."

"Poor Luke. The man he hates the most, his father?"Cas grabbed a handful of popcorn from the coffee table. "Are we going to watch the next one?"

"Sure!" Dean smiled. "I'm just not sure you're gonna like The Return of the Jedi as much as this one. There are fluffy things that look like Teddy bears, man."

"There is nothing wrong with Teddy bears."

"Really, Cas?" Dean snorted, placing the DVD in the slot. "Come on, move over, lemme sit here too."

"Alright."

Two hours later, they were still talking about the films. Sam had arrived from his girlfriend's house and the three were sitting in the living room with pizza and beer.

"I have some theories," Sam said, "but I'm gonna wait until the next trilogy comes."

Cas looked at Sam as if the guy had given him a very precious gift. "There will be another trilogy?"

"Sure!" Sam got up and smiled. "The first film will probably be ready in 2015. Wait, let me get my books about the expanded universe. There are a couple of books you should read and then you tell me what you think. You're gonna love Mara Jade, she totally kicks ass."

While Sam and Cas talked about the awesomeness of Star Wars, Dean watched them. Again. He liked to watch Cas talking with his brother animatedly, like old friends. It made him feel that Cas belonged there.

He had already decided he _liked_ Cas, as in, more than friends. He didn't know if Cas was into guys, but he would never know if he didn't test the waters, would he? Maybe he would ask Cas out one of these days. Besides, Cas didn't strike him as a homophobe. If Cas didn't feel attracted to Dean, he was sure Cas would still be his friend.

But the thing was that Cas _stared_ so much at Dean, that it made him feel very self-conscious sometimes. Dean had caught Cas staring, more than once, and there was _fondness _in his eyes. Like he _cared_ for Dean. It wasn't something easy to fake, the way Dean felt Cas' eyes following him, especially when they said goodbye. Sometimes, when Cas was about to close the diner, and Dean was about to go home, Dean had the impression that Cas was going to ask him to stay. But Cas never asked, so Dean never stayed.

Dean was decided to change that. He didn't have the courage yet, but he would have, hopefully soon. He watched as Cas ran his hands through his own hair, his face alight, excited, as if this was the first time he'd ever had a friend to discuss outlandish plans and absurd ideas about a science fiction movie with.

"Hey, Cas, what do you think, next Sunday we'll have a Lord of the Rings marathon, how about that?" Dean asked, just to take Cas' attention from Sam. Not that he was jealous, but he really liked to see Cas' blue eyes looking at him.

Cas turned his eyes to Dean with a huge grin on his face. "Can we?" he asked, like a little boy who'd just been told that Christmas was coming six months earlier. Cas had borrowed the books from Sam last week and had already read all three, like the huge nerd he was.

"Sure. We can start earlier than we did today, because the films are three hours each."

Cas beamed at Dean and shit, he shouldn't think a full grown man was 'cute', but he did.

Later, when all the pizza and the beer was gone, Dean took Cas home. It was a clear night, and they decided to walk, because the diner wasn't far. Cas didn't stop talking all the way to the diner; about how much he had liked the Star wars marathon, and how he was already anxious for next weekend. Dean smiled to himself, counting **this** as a victory that the serious guy beside him, who had apparently lived inside a bubble of work and duty until now, was slowly opening up to life.

And if his hand brushed Cas' sometimes, as they walked slowly down the streets of Lawrence, it was just coincidence.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, August, 2013.**

Castiel was now very familiar with the concept of having fun. It was when you did something good, with no other purpose than to be with people you liked, spending some quality time together. The moments he spent with Dean were always the best. Like this one; because there was nothing special about it, but the fact that Dean was there, with him, made everything different, better, and was more than enough.

They had closed the diner earlier; it was Tuesday night and it was raining outside, a lot, so they figured no one would come in this storm. Dean was watching while Castiel finished doing the dishes. He was sitting on the counter, and he was attacking a piece of pecan pie Castiel had saved for him.

"You never get tired of this?" he asked Castiel out of the blue. "Doing the dishes. Sweeping the floor. Working here."

"I enjoy being useful."

Dean snorted. "Cas, a guy like you could be useful anywhere. You're super smart, you could go to college or something."

Castiel shrugged. "This is a respectable job, just like any other. Besides, I am grateful for Missouri's kindness. I don't want to just leave her."

"I know. But… don't you wanna just… leave, see the world? I don't know, man, I've lived here all my life. It's… suffocating sometimes."

Castiel had already seen the world; all of it, actually, Heaven, Hell and Earth. "I enjoy the fact that I can find… beauty in simple things," he said. "I like simple things. I like… peace. I feel that here. Sometimes we spend half our lives wanting to leave home, and when we finally do it, we spent the rest of our lives missing it."

"I _know_." Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying that… hey, let's make a deal: someday we're going on a road trip, what do you say? Just you and me, no destination, just… living, you know?"

Castiel stopped what he was doing and looked Dean in the eye. "If it will make you happy, I will gladly compromise."

"No, man, I wanna know if it would make _you _happy, too."

"You make me happy, Dean," Castiel declared simply.

"Shit, Cas, you leave me speechless sometimes, you know that?"

"It's true, I don't know why I shouldn't say it."

"Oh," Dean laughed", "You can say it all you want, man. It… it actually feels good to hear it."

Dean was in a very good mood. Apparently, Sam had been offered a position in a law firm in Kansas City, and Dean was very proud of him. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. Dean couldn't stop saying that he'd always known his little brother was going to be a successful lawyer. Sam was going to propose to his fiancée, Jess, and they would move to the big city and live happily ever after.

Castiel washed the last of the glasses, turned, and looked pointedly at Dean, eyeing the plate and fork in his hands. Just when Dean was about to say something, there was a loud thunder and everything went dark.

There was a loud clatter, and then Dean said "Shit!" and a few other curses Castiel didn't want to repeat.

"Dean?" The angel immediately thought there was something wrong. He immediately berated himself, for letting his guard down, for enjoying these few weeks with Dean as if he were a normal person, as if he had the _right _to do any other thing that what was his duty; as if protecting Dean wasn't the _only _reason he was on Earth. _What a great job he was doing_, he thought sarcastically, angry with himself. He hadn't come here to fall in love. He had come here with a purpose, and he was letting things slide and get out of control, like a fool. There was no excuse for that, no excuse at all.

Dean must have heard Castiel's alarmed tone. "Dude, calm down. I just have pie all over my shirt. Fuck."

"Are you alright?" Castiel asked, just to be sure, already squinting and calling to the sparkles of Grace still inside him, so he could see in the dark.

"I'm fine. Just sticky with pecan pie filling all over me."

Slowly, Castiel started to see with more clarity. Dean was still on the counter, running his hands over his shirt and frowning, clearly annoyed with himself. He appeared to be perfectly fine, except for his ruined shirt.

Castiel let out a relieved breath. He was overreacting, which was natural, considering all that had happened with Crowley, but he needed to have better control of himself. The demon and his threats belonged to the past now. "Come," he said, grabbing Dean's hand and walking to his room, at the back of the diner.

"Where are we going? I can't see a thing," Dean complained, following Castiel.

"To my room. I'm going to give you a clean shirt to wear."

"Dude, how are you going to even find a shirt in this darkness?"

Castiel opened his bedroom's door and pulled Dean inside. "Wait," he said, opening a drawer, where he had put some candles – from the summoning spell – and a box of matches. He lit one, placing it on his bedside table.

The faint glow illuminated Castiel's little bedroom slowly. He opened his small wardrobe and started looking for a clean shirt, one that Dean wouldn't find too horrendous. He liked stripes and Dean didn't, and more than once Dean had said, joking, that Castiel dressed like his grandfather.

"So, this is where you sleep," Dean commented casually, but Castiel was busy looking for the shirt, so he just grunted in response. "I'm gonna text Mom to tell her I'm here, 'cause she's alone at home but there's no way I'm leaving in this rain. Sam went out with Jess to celebrate his new job and I don't think he's gonna sleep at home," he chuckled.

Finally, Castiel found a simple white t-shirt and he turned to Dean triumphantly, the shirt in his hand. He felt his mouth suddenly dry and his eyes widened at what he saw.

Dean was shirtless, holding his dirty shirt and his cell phone; he finished texting his mother and looked at Castiel with clear green eyes that the angel could see clearly, even in the dark. And he was perfect.

There was no other way to describe him. Dean Winchester was perfect on the inside, Castiel already knew that, because he had seen his soul once, and it was the most brilliant and unblemished thing the angel had ever seen. But Dean was perfect on the outside too.

His skin was flawless, looking a little tanned and with freckles that Castiel suddenly wanted to count, one by one. He was toned, but not too much, and his arms looked perfect and strong. Castiel wanted to know how all that skin would feel against his.

"Cas?" Dean looked at him, biting his lower lip, as if seeing Castiel's eyes on him had made him suddenly insecure and hesitant.

Castiel gulped and took a step in Dean's direction, stopping right in front of him. "Dean, I…do you…"

"What, Cas?" Dean suddenly looked very self-conscious, and he bit his lower lip, looking at Castiel as if he was afraid of being rejected.

Castiel took a deep breath. "Dean, I… if you want to go home, it's alright. But I would like very much if… if you stayed tonight."

Dean gave him a smile, and let out a breath. "You would?"

"Yes. Do you want to stay?"

"Hell yes. I'll stay."

They looked at each other for a few seconds. Then, slowly, Dean took the white t-shirt from Castiel's hand and tossed it aside. "You sure?" he asked, looking Castiel deep in the eyes. "If you want to change your mind…"

"I don't." Castiel gulped.

Dean held Castiel's hands, intertwining their fingers. "What? Talk to me. I said we would take things slow."

"I don't… I don't know what to do."

"That's fine," Dean said softly. "There's nothing planned, we'll just… let it happen, okay?"

Castiel slowly shook his head no. "Dean… Are you sure that the fact that I… haven't been with anyone isn't disappointing?"

"Hey, hey, look at me," Dean trapped Castiel's eyes with his own. "It doesn't matter. You would never disappoint me, Cas. All I care about is that we're together, okay?"

"What if – "

"No what ifs, Cas." Dean came even closer, his breath like hot puffs in Castiel's face. "You sure you want this?"

"I do."

"So everything is going to be perfect. 'Cause it's _us_, Cas, and I don't care about anything else right now. I just care that I'm with you."

"Dean, I… you are very important to me."

"I know, Cas. You look at me like I'm… like I'm fucking _precious_. So I don't care about anyone else but you, 'cause I… you're important too, Cas. And I don't want you to forget that, ever."

The kiss started slow, almost chaste, but Dean soon deepened it, his arms around Castiel's waist, holding him in place, anchoring him in this human body, in this human life he had come to love, because it was spent with Dean.

Clothes were taken off slowly, the kisses more and more demanding, and when he felt Dean's naked skin on his, Castiel knew that he would never be able to let this man go. He would give everything Dean needed, _be_ everything Dean needed, if he had to. Because this was love, like Castiel had never thought possible, and nothing in the world, not even Heaven and all the angels would make him give up on Dean Winchester.

It was wrong for an angel to put anyone above God. But Castiel would be lost without Dean. He would be reduced to nothing if he couldn't look in Dean's eyes ever again. That thought scared him more than any battle he had ever taken part in.

They moved slowly, like one, against each other, a whirlwind of emotions inside Castiel's heart and an avalanche of sensations in his body. It was like a giant wave, crashing against him, destroying him completely and making him whole again. It was intense, Dean taking everything from him and giving him everything in return: his mind, his body, everything he was and ever would be. He felt like, if he could have this, if he could have Dean, he would never miss flying, ever again. _This_ was flying. And the best thing was that Dean was right there, flying with him.

When the hurricane inside him calmed, there was only Dean, looking at him with amazement, holding Castiel like he would never let go.

"I love you," Castiel declared, because there was nothing more he could say after all he'd felt in Dean's arms. There was nothing in the world truer than this. Dean was his everything.

"I love you too, Cas," Dean said with a beautiful smile. "I really do."

Dean slept still holding Castiel close, and the angel, still overwhelmed by what he had just discovered about himself – that he was capable of love a person as fiercely and completely as he loved God – stayed there, guarding Dean's sleep, trying to calm his own heart.

The cell phone started ringing when it was almost dawn. Castiel called Dean's name softly, and Dean, still groggy with sleep, picked up the phone from his pants' pocket.

"Hullo?"

Castiel watched as Dean's eyes widened and he sat up abruptly, horror on his face. "Who?" A pause, then "What?" he yelled. He started nodding frantically, already getting up and looking for his clothes. "Who gave you my number?"

Dean looked at Castiel with a lost expression, so devastated that Castiel feared someone had died.

"Shit, Sammy," he said, shaking his head. "Yes, yes! I'll be there as soon as I can!"

Dean turned off the phone and looked at Castiel with disbelief evident on his face. "It was my dad," he said. "I need to go to the police station. Now."

Castiel got up, looking around for his clothes too. "Police? What happened?"

"It's Sam. He's in jail. Sam was arrested."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. _

_For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. _

_So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets._

_Enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many._

_For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few._

_Matthew, 7; 7-9 / 12-14_

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, December, 1994**

The first Christmas Sam Winchester had any memory of, his mother was sick. She worked too hard, too much, and she got home too late, almost every night. She worked as a waitress, because there wasn't much work for a woman who had always been a housewife and now was a single mom.

Her friends helped. Missouri let Sam and Dean stay at the diner where Mary worked. She gave them burgers and let them do their homework in peace in a corner booth. Ellen, despite owning a bar and working most nights, used to take Sam and Dean to her house whenever Mary needed to work extra hours on the weekends. Pamela, Mary's best friend, used to babysit the boys whenever she needed. Bobby, an old friend of their father, would come to their house with groceries every other week, and ruffled the boys' hair, calling them 'little idjits', but he gave Dean his own miniature cars collection, because the boys were like sons to him.

All in all, Sam had a pretty decent childhood.

But that year, Mary was sick. There was a flu epidemic in the city, and the winter was particularly cold. Bobby and Ellen were visiting relatives out of Lawrence and Missouri was sick too. Pamela was on honeymoon.

Sam already knew there wasn't going to be a Christmas tree or presents for him. Mary had told him that. He was only five, but he tried to accept the fact that they were poor and that Mary hadn't worked the extra hours she needed for the extra cash to buy him and Dean presents.

When Christmas morning came, Sam didn't bother to get out of bed. He decided to sleep the whole morning and maybe later go to the park, if it wasn't too cold. But he hadn't expected that his brother would change that Christmas morning the way he did.

Sam was lying on his bed, looking at the old wallpaper and counting the cracks in it. By ten, his stomach started to growl, so he decided to stop wailing in his misery, get up and explore the kitchen. But as soon as he reached the top of the stairs, still in his pajamas, he heard loud music coming from the living room. Curious, he went downstairs and found Dean in the kitchen, stirring a pot that smelled good.

"What are you cooking?" Sam asked, only now noticing that the songs playing were – wonder of wonders – Christmas carols, not Dean's loud rock songs.

"Chicken soup for mom."

Sam scowled. That was so not what he wanted to eat. "Oh, okay."

"But there's pancakes'n eggs if you want. I left them on the counter."

Sam gave a big grin, running to the counter where a huge plate with pancakes, eggs and bacon waited for him. "Thanks, Dean, you're the best!"

Dean laughed. "Wait till you see our Christmas tree."

"We have a tree?"

They hada tree; anugly, small tree, with part of the foliage missing, but it was decorated with red and green paper chains all over, and miniature marshmallows imitating snowflakes. It looked beautiful and Sam had never seen a cooler tree in his life.

"You bought it?" he asked, amazed.

"Yep, yesterday after you guys went to bed…and I spent the night decorating it," Dean said smugly.

"I thought you had spent your savings on the new coat for Sam last week," Mary said from the doorway.

"Mom! You shouldn't be up!" Dean hurried to pull a chair for Mary to sit on. "You hungry? Chicken soup's almost ready."

"I'm feeling better today. And you didn't answer me, Dean."

"Mom, come see the Christmas tree!" Sam said before Dean could answer. "Dean made all the decorations! Isn't it great?"

Sam took their mother to the living room and she sat on an armchair near the fireplace. "It is very beautiful," she said, her voice trembling a little, her eyes suddenly moist. "Thank you, sweetie," she said to Dean, who blushed a little.

"Wait, there are presents too!" Dean said, kneeling near the tree and getting two small packages. One he gave to Mary, the other to Sam.

"Oh, Dean…" Mary's eyes were even moister than before, and she blinked a few times while she opened her present. It was a small hand mirror, decorated with fake pearls and pink ribbons. "I love it."

Sam opened his present in a rush, tearing at the paper, smiling at his brother. Inside the box, there was a set of toy soldiers, the green plastic kind. There were also several second hand comic books, mostly Spider Man and Superman, two of Sam's favorites.

"Wow! Thanks, Dean!"

"Where did you get money for all this, baby?" Mary asked. "You didn't have that much saved."

Dean blushed again and looked down. "I… um…I had a few more bucks hidden," and it was so clear he was lying that even five year old Sam noticed.

Mary looked at Dean, and a silent understanding passed between them. Sam looked from his brother to his mother, feeling that something big was going on, but unable to understand what.

"You didn't buy anything for yourself?" she asked softly.

Dean shrugged. "Nah. I don't need anything, Mom. I have you guys."

"Come here, baby," Mary said, beckoning Dean to her. He went, awkwardly, and kneeled next to her, because at thirteen he was already getting tall. "My little man, you do take care of us, don't you?" she whispered, hugging him.

Dean looked embarrassed. "Come on, Mom, no chick flicks."

"I love you, baby," Mary went on like she hadn't heard him. "God gave me the best son in the world." She looked at Sam and opened her free arm to him. "The best sons," she corrected, smiling. "Come here, Sammy."

Sam went willingly; he didn't miss any opportunity to receive his mother's warmth, especially because she smelled really good. They stayed like that, hugging each other, while White Christmas played on the radio, and Sam, even though he was still a child, knew that his brother would always take care of him.

It was one of the best Christmases of Sam's life.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, August, 2013.**

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"Dean, calm down!" Castiel said. "Your father is just trying to help."

"What the hell, man! Sammy, in jail? For starting a fight in a bar, with _marijuana_ in his pocket? Sammy? That's completely fucked up."

"I know," John said in a low voice. "I tried to tell the policeman that Sam hadn't done anything, but when they found the weed, they didn't even hear me."

"Sam is _not _on drugs!" Dean snapped. "And why the hell were you there at the bar?"

John Winchester looked at his son with dismay. "It was just a coincidence."

Dean's nostrils flared and he let out a loud breath. "Coincidence my ass, Come on, I'm not dumb. A month ago you were '_coincidently_' following me, now you're 'c_oincidently_' following Sam. You're stalking us or what?"

"Fine!" John yelled. "I was following Sam! I… I just want to be sure you two are safe." He looked at Castiel, meaningfully, but Dean completely missed that.

Castiel understood why John hadn't left yet. He had been following his sons to see if they were alright, if Crowley hadn't come back and possessed his boys. He wasn't such a bad father, after all. At least he was trying to take care of Sam and Dean the best way he could, even though he was no**t** subtle about following them around.

"Why the hell wouldn't we be safe? That's bullshit! We don't need your protection, Dad!" Dean yelled. "We got by just great without you all these years!"

"Dean, don't," Castiel put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "We are in a police station, please try to control your rage."

Dean glared at John angrily, but did what Castiel asked and sat down heavily on one of the plastic chairs. "Fuck," he whispered again. Luckily, the police station's reception was mostly empty, except for a morose guy at the front desk.

"Look, Dean, I understand that you're angry, but I'm Sam's father and I have as much right to be here as you."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, sure. Like you care. Like you didn't leave us and – you know what? I'm not wasting my time with you, pal. You have no right _at all_ to be here; you gave up your rights as a father when you left. Don't you _dare_ playing daddy now, 'cause we don't need you."

"Dean, let him stay," Castiel reasoned. "Your father is worried about Sam. Please. This is not the time to fight."

"Shit, Cas, this is fucked up," Dean ran his hands through his hair, exasperated.

Castiel looked at John and gave him a silent, curt not. John nodded too, gratefully, and went to sit a few chairs away.

Finally, after almost half an hour, the officer came with Sam. "Here he is," she said brusquely, practically pushing Sam at their direction. "Make sure he doesn't get into another confusion."

Sam looked like he had been run over by a truck. His clothes were rumpled and dirty, his eyes bloodshot, and there was a band-aid on his left temple, beside a huge bruise on his left eye.

Dean got up hurriedly as soon as he saw Sam, stopping short right in front of his brother. "Hey, Sammy," he said softly, and his face was a mask of worry.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Sam said, his face crumpling before he hugged his brother.

"I know, I know. Don't worry… everything is going to be fine," Dean said, while Castiel and John watched.

"No, it won't. D – Dean, I don't know how that weed ended up in my pocket, I swear," Sam sobbed. "I don't know what happened."

"I know, Sammy, I know. We'll figure out what to do. Let's go home, you'll feel much better after a shower."

"What about Jess? Mom?" Sam said hiding his face with is hands. "What am I gonna tell them?"

"We've already done that," Dean assured him. "They're just worried. Mom is waiting for you. Jess is going to meet us at home. Come on."

They started to exit the police station, Dean, Sam and Castiel forming a small line. John followed them outside, walking hesitantly behind Castiel. Dean stopped at the sidewalk and looked at his father. "Where do you think you're going?"

Sam sighed. "Let him come, Dean," he said, tiredly. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey dad?" Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam. "You've been seeing him? 'Cause you sure don't look surprised to see him here."

"We… had lunch the other day," Sam said sheepishly.

"And that is okay with you, Sammy?" Dean was beginning to sound angry again.

Castiel put a hand on Dean's elbow, pulling him to the side. "Dean, this is not the time to fight with Sam. He needs you. Let your father come with us; he just wants to help."

That seemed to calm Dean, who took a deep breath. "Okay," he said to Castiel, his shoulders tense. He turned to John. "You can come if you want. Cas is right, this is about Sam, not about me. I bet Mom will have the surprise of her life, seeing you coming through the front door," he said bitterly.

John looked at Castiel again, and the angel understood the silent thanks in his eyes. As they got inside the Impala, Sam beside Dean and Castiel **i**n the back with John, Sam's voice was still ringing over and over in Castiel's mind: _"I don't know how that weed ended up in my pocket, I swear. I don't know what happened."_

That could only mean one thing: unless Sam was suffering from a sudden, unexpected amnesia, he had just been possessed.

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, July, 2013**

Sam was only six moths old when John left Mary with two children to raise all by herself. That meant Sam didn't have any good memories of his father. On the other hand, it also meant he didn't have any _bad _memories of him. Unlike Dean, who seemed to despise John and everything Mary had gone through because of him.

Dean was fiercely protective of his mother, but for Sam, things were completely different. When Sam was old enough to understand what the word '_depression_' meant, Mary was already out of it, opening a flower shop with her best friend Pamela and full of plans for the future.

So, Sam had never had all the resentment Dean had towards John, because John had never been a constant in his life. He didn't miss his father because he already had a father figure in his life. Kind of.

Dean was eight years older than Sam and he had always been there to take care of him. When Sam was very little, he wished that Dean was his father, because it was Dean who picked him up at kindergarten, who cooked him lunch and dinner, who helped with his homework, who read to him all the Lord of The Rings books while Mary worked to make ends meet.

Of course he hadn't known that children didn't raise other children. But Dean had.

Now, as an adult, Sam was aware that they had been very poor in the first few years after John left. He knew, even though no one had told him, that sometimes Dean had used questionable methods to get him the things he needed, like books, shoes, clothes. Dean would tell Mary that a friend with a little brother Sam's age had given the things to him, and Mary believed, or pretended to. Sam never asked how Dean had gotten those things – maybe he'd shoplifted, maybe he'd begged on the streets, who knew? – **B**ecause the truth would probably upset Mary, and Sam, following Dean's example, did everything he could to spare Mom any kind of heartbreak.

Not that Dean was dishonest. On the contrary, he was the most righteous man Sam had ever met. He just did whatever needed to be done for his family, always. Even not going to college and working his ass off at Bobby's – before he had his own garage – to save money so Sam could have a chance at being a lawyer. Tuition wasn't cheap.

When John called him, Sam agreed to meet his father without much questioning. It was just a meeting like any other – well, almost – but Sam didn't hate the guy, so he went. John looked tired, worried and almost paranoid, looking around several times as they sat eating lunch at a diner on the other side of the city.

"Your brother will not approve **of** you having lunch with me," John said, drinking a large gulp of his beer.

"I'm a big boy, Dad."

"That you are," John gave a small smile "You turned out well, Sam. I'm proud, even though I had nothing to do with it."

"Why are you here, Dad?" Sam went right to the point. "Why now?"

John shrugged and chuckled bitterly. "I ended up here by chance. But when I arrived, when everything was over, I realized I should have come back long ago, that I wanted to be back and beg for forgiveness from your mother as soon as I left."

"What was over, Dad? And… if you wanted to come back, why didn't you?"

"I'm a coward, son. I'm sorry, but I am," John admitted bitterly. "But I'd like to talk to your mother before I go away again."

"So you're leaving again?" Sam asked, disappointed.

"Maybe it's better if I do," was all John said.

Sam decided to be honest and say what he really thought. "Look, Dad, I know you made a big mistake. A huge, shitty one but… I think this is between you and Mom. You should go see her if that's what you want. You were married to _her_, not to me, not to Dean. Forget what we want; _she's_ the one you hurt the most. If… if she agrees to see you, me and Dean, we will agree on anything she decides."

"You're a great man, Sam."

"I had the greatest mother and brother, Dad. Maybe that's why. You know, Mom cries whenever you call. But I don't think it's because she's weak. She's the strongest person I know. I think she cries because of everything you could have had together, but didn't."

"You have no idea how many times I regretted my actions."

"Save it, Dad. It's Mom you have to convince, not me."

Later, Sam realized that he'd just told his father that it was okay for him to go and talk to Mary, even though he knew she didn't want to see him. Shit, Dean was going to kill him when he found out what Sam had said. But then again, Dean wouldn't be angry with him for too long. He never was. Sam could always count on Dean to act like the big brother he was and to forgive him.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, August, 2013.**

Mary didn't seem that surprised to see John. But she only had eyes for Sam in the current situation, and Castiel knew that everything between Mary and John would only be dealt with once Sam's problem was solved.

The angel was sitting awkwardly on the sofa, John beside him, while Mary and Dean fussed over Sam. They told him to go upstairs and take a shower so they could talk. Mary retreated to the kitchen with the excuse of making tea for everyone.

"You better grab the strongest booze we have," Dean said with a bitter chuckle, eyeing John warily. "I think we'll need it a lot more than any tea you can make, Mom."

Castiel was debating if he should leave. It was a family moment after all; he had no place here, so maybe he should leave them alone. But Sam's words didn't let him go anywhere, and something cold inside his heart was telling him that Crowley could be behind this. He was capable of everything. If it was really him, Castiel was at a loss at why he hadn't died. The angel blade never failed killing demons.

He got up and walked to where Dean was searching for the liquor in the cabinet. "Dean, I-" he started, but Dean grabbed his hand with a strong grip.

"I know I'm asking too much, putting you in all this mess but… can you stay?"

"If you want me to, I will," Castiel said, relieved. He wanted to stay, because he wanted to be there for Dean. But more than that, he had to find out what had really happened to Sam.

"I'm gonna take a shower too, maybe that'll help clear my head." Dean said, squeezing Castiel's hand once and turning to the stairs. "Wait for me?"

"Of course."

That left Castiel alone with John Winchester.

They stayed in silence for a while, but Castiel could feel John's eyes on him. He walked to the coffee table and picked up a magazine, flipping through if only to have something to do.

"How did you and Dean meet?" John finally asked with a neutral tone.

Castiel decided to give him as much truth as he could. "I work at Mrs. Moseley's diner. I saved Dean from being ran over by a car."

"Oh. I wonder why I've never asked you this before." Silence. Then, "You two seem very close."

"We are." Castiel didn't owe John an explanation, but he clarified, "I told you we're friends."

"But that's not all you are to him." It was not a question. "He listens to you."

"I'm glad."

"Are you…" John started again, after a while. "I mean… is he… are you his… um…"

Castiel finally lost his patience. Despite of what John could think about his and Dean's relationship, Dean had said he didn't want to hide, hadn't he? "I believe the word you are looking for is '_boyfriend_'. And yes, I am Dean's boyfriend." He tried to fight the pride in his voice but failed miserably.

"Oh. That's… great."

"Do you disapprove?" Castiel asked, not because it would make any difference, but because he was curious.

"It's not my place to approve of anything Dean does," John said, and Castiel had to agree with the man. At least he knew that he had lost the right to have a say in his son's life. "But no, I don't disapprove," John added. "You're a good man. I can see how much you care about him."

"Good."

John scratched the back of his head. "You heard what Sam said, didn't you? You think he was… possessed? Like I was?" he whispered, looking at the kitchen's door for any sign of Mary. "You think that demon's back?"

"We should not jump into conclusions before he tells us everything that happened."

"Right. But I have a feeling in my guts… we killed him, didn't we? Could it be another one?"

"We killed him," Castiel said, more to convince himself, because he wasn't sure of anything anymore. "I agree that what happened is strange. But we need to hear Sam first."

"Why are demons coming after my family?" John asked, exasperated.

_They aren't. It's all my fault_, Castiel thought. _All because of me_. _If I had killed Crowley when I first caught him, he wouldn't be looking for revenge now. If he managed not to die, that is. _But he just shrugged and didn't answer John. He still couldn't explain what had happened. Crowley _couldn't_ have survived, he just couldn't. And if there was another demon after Castiel, the big question was _why_?

"At least Dean is safe. You know about these…these _things_, these _demons_, and you can protect Dean. Right?" When Castiel didn't answer, John insisted. "You can warn him, right?"

"I don't think he would believe me if I said demons walk the Earth. And I'm doing my best to protect him," he said bitterly. "But I am afraid my best might not be enough."

"What do you mean? John started to ask, alarmed, but Sam and Dean came together down the stairs and John stopped talking.

They all sat down at the kitchen table to have '_the talk'_. Castiel felt very out of place there, but no one batted an eye at his presence and Dean pulled him by the hand to sit beside him. Mary put a cup of tea in front of each one of them. Dean ignored his tea and poured himself a glass of whiskey. After a heartbeat, he poured the amber liquid in another glass and pushed it slowly towards John, who accepted with a slight nod and a half-smile.

"Start from the beginning, Sammy," Dean said, looking at Sam. "What do you remember?"

"Sam gulped, but Castiel felt he had no intention of lying. He was just nervous. "Um…I walked Jess to her door and kissed her goodnight. There was…a strong wind, like it was going to rain, so I ran to my car and got inside. There was this… smoke in the air, almost like a fog, and I… I guess I closed the door as quickly as I could."

"Then?" Mary asked eagerly.

"Then nothing. All I know is that I… I woke up in a cell at the police station. They… they sad I had been in a bar fight and they had found… marijuana in my pockets. B – But I swear, I swear I didn't do anything!"

"Shit," was all Dean said. Castiel didn't blame him; there was nothing left to say. The angel believed Sam, because he _knew_ what must have happened, but if Dean and Mary believed him, it was a whole another story. Demonic possession wasn't something that Mary and Dean would believe.

Sam widened his eyes suddenly. "Do you think I'm sick? I just blacked out, out of nowhere! Maybe I have a – a – I don't know, a brain tumor?"

"Oh my God, baby, don't say something like that…!" Mary shook her head as if to make the thought go away.

"I had a freaking _blackout_, guys. One moment I was in my car, the other in a cell. How do you explain that?" he looked around at them. "Wait. You guys believe me, don't you?" Sam asked abruptly, looking at his mother and brother with desperation.

Dean and Mary looked at each other without a word. It was Castiel who said solemnly, "We believe you, Sam."

John looked at Castiel as if he wanted to say something, but even though kept quiet, the angel could see what he was thinking: demon.

"Thanks, Cas," Sam whispered, eyes downcast. "I – I don't know what I'll do with my life. I just…"

That seemed to take Dean out of his stupor, and he patted at Sam's back. "Hey, calm down, calm down, Sammy. It'll be alright."

"No, it _won't_," Sam said vehemently, tears already streaming down his face. "It won't."

"You don't know that," Dean insisted. "It's not as if you'll go to jail. Maybe they'll want you to do community services for some time, but that'll be all. No big deal."

Sam shook his head no. "My life is over, Dean. My _whole life is over_."

"Come on, baby, it won't be like that," Mary said, holding Sam's hands over the table. "Everything will be alright in the end. No one will remember this in a few weeks."

"We'll figure out a way out of community service, Sammy," Dean said, looking at his brother worriedly.

"You don't understand, do you? Sam said bitterly. "I don't give a shit about community service. When I say my life is over, I mean it really _is_ over. Remember that big chance in that famous law firm, Parson & Sons? Well, that is over, Dean. _Over_. If I don't have a clean record, and I _did _have one, until yesterday, I can forget the job they offered me."

Dean covered his mouth with his hand. "Shit."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, shit. And I can say goodbye to being hired by any big law firm. This kind of news spreads like fire. I'll never be big, successful, because I was _arrested_ for violent behavior with _drugs_ in my pocket! I can say goodbye to the wedding too, 'cause Jess will never want to marry a loser like me. Not that I'll have that much to offer her, anyway."

"Calm down, Sammy," Dean drank all the contents of his glass all in one go. "We'll figure a way out of this."

"No, Dean, we _won't."_ Sam got up slowly, like his body weighted a ton of bricks. "This time, there's nothing we can do. You can't fix everything for me, Dean. Not this."

As he left the kitchen, the doorbell rang and Mary started to get up too. "It must be Jess."

Before she could leave, John held her hand awkwardly. "Mary… when this is over, I… I'd like to talk to you."

She looked tiredly at John's hand over hers on the table. "Alright," she said, after a few seconds. "But only after this nightmare is behind us."

"I'll be waiting."

She nodded and, without another word, left the kitchen, leaving John, Dean and Castiel alone.

"Fuck all the shits that ever fucked in the history of fucks," Dean murmured, almost to himself. "I need to come up with a way to help him. Sam will be destroyed if he loses this job – and all future opportunities, apparently – because of one damn fuck up."

"He didn't do it." Castiel was almost sure that it wasn't Sam's fault. Maybe he could ask for John's help and try to track Crowley, or whichever demon was behind this. Again. Maybe he could find a way to trap the demon and put him in prison, even without most of his Grace. It killed him the fact that he couldn't tell Dean the truth. But when the Grim Reaper threatens to torture someone, he is not joking. He would die before he let Death torture Dean.

"Whether he did it or not is not the point here. The point is that I _have_ to help him. I can't believe there is nothing we can do," Dean said, shaking his head, in complete disbelief.

John looked at Dean hesitantly, but then he seemed to make up his mind, because he took a deep breath and spoke. "There is," he said. "There is something we can do to save Sam."

"What?" Dean almost yelled, getting up.

John shook his head no. "Shhh. Not here. Is there any other place we can talk?"

…

The garage was at walking distance. Dean walked fast, Cas beside him, their steps matching, with John behind them

"Talk," Dean demanded when he closed the garage's door behind the three of them.

John looked at Dean resolutely. "The only way to help Sam is to make sure this thing never shows in his records."

"No shit, Sherlock," Dean smirked. "And how do you propose we do that?"

John grimaced. "You probably won't like this. But… I think we can steal Sam's file. We can erase any records they have of him."

Castiel felt something cold going up his spine. John wanted Dean to _steal_? "No!" he almost yelled, grabbing Dean's arm. "No, you can't!"

Dean looked at John in silence, questioningly, but Castiel realized with trepidation that he was thinking about it. _Really _thinking about it.

"We wouldn't be invading like crazy assholes, we're not going there with blazing guns, western style, nothing like that," John insisted. "One of us can create a… a diversion and – and the other slips on the office and grabs Sam's file. We can find a hacker to erase the records about him. It's not gonna be easy, but it's the only thing I can think of."

"This is madness. I won't let you do this," Castiel said. "Invasion and theft is against the law, and Dean can end up in jail for that."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Dean suddenly said, and Castiel's stomach dropped. "I think you're making sense, Dad."

Castiel grabbed Dean's arm. "Dean, you can't steal from the police!"

"This is not the time to play the good guy, Cas. Didn't you hear what Sam said back there? His future is over, his dream is over, and I can't let that happen!"

"But this is crazy!" Castiel insisted. "Sam would never approve of it!"

"Sam doesn't need to know," Dean deadpanned.

"So you will put your own future at risk for his?" Castiel asked.

"What future, Cas?" Dean asked, exasperated. "What future? Tell me, because I have no idea. Sam is the brain in the family. I have nothing to lose, but he has a lot, and I won't let hi**m** down."

"You could lose a lot more than you imagine, Dean," Castiel said, shaking his head sadly.

"Bull shit. I'm gonna help my brother."

John nodded at Dean, determined. "We won't have much time to plan, this needs to be done as soon as possible. But we have to at least try."

"I know a hacker. Charlie. I trust her."

Castiel's shoulders sagged with dismay. "Dean," he tried. "Don't do this. There must be another way. It's dangerous." But Dean was looking at John now, completely convinced that it was the best way, the only way.

Castiel had no doubt it could be done. Albeit dangerous, the small city's police station wasn't completely protected. But all he could think of was that if Dean stole _anything_, another Commandment would be broken, and there were already so many on his list. He wished there was something he could say to stop the man he loved, but without being able to tell Dean exactly _why _he couldn't steal, Castiel's arguments sounded weak and stupid.

"I… had to do a lot of things to survive, son." John confessed. "Not always honest things and I'm not proud of most of them. It was a long time ago, but they say it's just like riding a bike, don't they? And it's for a good cause."

"Dean, I don't think this is – " Castiel started again, but Dean didn't let him finish.

"Cas. It's _Sam_. I gotta help him, no matter what. I'm not sacrificing his life because I chickened out. We can do this, me'n Dad."

_Me and Dad?_ Where had Dean's animosity towards his father gone to? Because they looked like best friends now. Astonished at how fast Dean had changed his mind, Castiel didn't want to give up. "Dean, this is wrong!"

"It doesn't matter, Cas!" Dean yelled. "If I'm arrested, at least I'll know Sam will get something good outta this!"

"What if you get arrested and _don't_ succeed? What if they get you _before_ you do anything? These are _policemen_, Dean, not amateurs!"

"Gee, way to support a team, Cas," Dean rolled his eyes, impatient.

"You're not helping here, bud," John said to Castiel. "We're trying to save Sam."

"Dean is as important as Sam," Castiel told John angrily. "Would you sacrifice a son to save the other?"

"No one is sacrificing anything here," Dean snapped. "I'm a big boy, and I didn't ask your opinion. Go back to the diner if you're so scared and let me plan this thing, because I can't chicken out now."

Castiel took a step back as if he's been slapped, his expression surprise and hurt.

The look on Castiel's face seemed to calm Dean a bit. "Hey, I…I'm sorry, Cas. I didn't mean that. But taking care of Sam is my job. This is important."

"You are important too, Dean," Castiel insisted. "It's a pity you can't see that."

Dean took a few steps forward and stopped right in front of Castiel, so John couldn't hear them. "Hey. Cas. Lemme plan this with Dad, alright? We _can_ do this. And then everything will be alright again, our lives will be back on track."

Castiel shook his head sadly, defeated. What was at stake here was so much bigger than Sam's problems. Only, Dean didn't know the truth, and he would get closer to his death without having any idea what he was doing. But at the same time, the angel had made up his mind. "Then I'm going with you."

Dean's eyes widened. "No way."

But Castiel wasn't taking no for an answer. "If you go, I go." He would not let Dean steal anything. _He would steal the file himself _before Dean could break the commandment. All that Castiel knew was that he would not allow Dean to condemn himself to an early death. It would be the seventh commandment he would break, things were spiraling down fast.

"I said no, Cas!" Dean looked at him angrily. "You're a nerdy dude! You – you sweep floors, you spend whole days reading Stephen Hawkins, for God's sake, you could get hurt!"

Castiel took a deep breath and said in a determined voice. "You don't know everything about me, Dean. I'm not inexperienced in… missions like that."

"You?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Me. I can be very useful."

Dean snorted humorlessly. "What a bunch of misfits we are. A nerdy guy who works in a diner, an old guy with no job and a fuck up with a GED who works with old cars."

"Let him come, Dean," John said, as Castiel knew he would, because he _knew _Castiel could fight. There was nothing supernatural in stealing a file, but a mission was a mission.

Castiel waited for Dean's answer, already knowing that it didn't matter what Dean would say, he would go with them, one way or the other.

"It seems that I can't make you change your mind, can I?" Dean put his hand on Castiel's shoulder, squeezing it. "Alright, you come with us, Cas. Nerdy or not, you're an adult, right?"

But Castiel didn't see this as a victory. Instead, he felt that was one of the biggest failures of all his long life. What a great angel he was, collection failures like that. He could only pray that nothing else would happen during the invasion, and that he could, somehow, find what, or more precisely, which demon had possessed Dean's brother.

Given his recent luck, he feared neither would happen.

Sighing, the angel joined Dean and John in planning invasion and theft.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

_There is no one righteous, not even one;_

_there is no one who understands;_

_there is no one who seeks God._

_All have turned away,_

_they have together become worthless;_

_there is no one who does good, not even one._

_Their throats are open graves;_

_their tongues practice deceit._

_The poison of vipers is on their lips._

_Their mouths are full of cursing and bitterness._

_Their feet are swift to shed blood;_

_ruin and misery mark their ways,_

_and the way of peace they do not know._

_There is no fear of God before their eyes._

_Romans, 3:11-18_

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, June 2013**

Sometimes, Sam and Dean had a guy's night out. They usually went out with Bobby, after work on Fridays, ending the night at the Roadhouse with burgers and lots of beer. It was more like a way to keep in touch with their old friend, the closest to a father figure they'd had after Dad left.

Dean decided to invite Cas along on an impulse. The guy was always working, or at the library, or… well, lately he spent a lot of time with Dean. So it was Friday, Dean knew Missouri had given Cas the night off, and he knew Cas would spend it in his room reading, all by himself, if he didn't take him with them. So he did.

Bobby raised an eyebrow when Cas introduced himself formally as always, but shook his hand and rolled his eyes, saying _"__**G**__rab a beer, son, and don't call me sir; I'm Bobby to you."_ He looked at Dean speculatively when Cas sat beside Dean, with his chair maybe a little too close to Dean's, but didn't say anything, shoving a plate of French fries in front of them instead.

Soon, Bobby was chatting animatedly with the three of them, calling them all 'idjits' and saying 'balls' and 'shit' to everyone, Cas included. Sam started talking about his plans for the future and which city would be ideal for him to start his career, while Bobby nodded and smiled like a proud father. They were doing their best to include Cas in the conversation, asking him his opinion about everything, even after Cas admitted shyly that his knowledge about most cities was very limited, since he had rarely left his hometown all his life.

And suddenly, seeing Sam and Bobby talking to Cas like they were old friends, Dean had an epiphany, and it hit him like a punch: Cas fit in their lives like a glove, he kinda _belonged_ there, and Dean could genuinely see himself with him, as in, _with _him. Meaning, Cas was boyfriend material, and although the thought made Dean feel like a teenager girl, it was true, so he would give it all the thought he wanted, dammit.

Dean had had a fling here and there with guys, but had only dated girls. Not because of any convention or hetero normative rule, no. It had just happened that all the guys Dean had been interested in were in the closet, and Lawrence was a small town, and Dean hated to hide who he was. If he was with a guy, he had no problem admitting it to everyone. It just had never happened, Dean and any guy usually didn't last enough to call it a relationship.

But Cas wasn't any guy.

Cas was an awkward dude, a nerdy guy with rusty people skills who, surprisingly, made Dean fell incredibly at ease and good. Things with him were simple, their friendship had flowed naturally from the start – or, from the day Cas saved him from the truck. Cas was uncomplicated, brutally honest and looked at Dean like he was someone worthy of being paid attention to, with his big blue eyes always curious and interested in everything Dean did or said.

Dean realized he wanted more of that.

He was almost feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush, but the truth was that he wanted to hold Cas close, kiss him silly just because he could, take him for walks, movies, DVD nights. Cas was different from everyone Dean had ever met, and he wanted to keep him around, preferably for a very, very long time.

"You really like him, don't you?" Sam murmured.

Dean blinked, looking at his brother and realizing he had zoned out. "Leave me alone, bitch," he mumbled with a hint of a smile on his face. Bobby and Cas were engrossed in a conversation about old films.

"You were totally looking at him and making doe eyes, jerk," Sam said with a low voice.

"Stop. I do not make doe eyes at anyone."

"Not when he is looking," Sam went on. "But when you see he's not paying attention, man, you totally do. And it's cute."

"Stop it, Sammy," Dean hissed, "I don't even know if he… if he's into…"

"Into guys? I have no idea. Into you? Hell yes."

Dean's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Come on, don't say you never noticed his complete disregard for personal space with you. And he looks at you as if he thinks you hung the moon, man."

"Shut up, you want him to hear?" Dean hissed again, nudging Sam's elbow.

But when Cas turned to him asking about Clint Eastwood, Dean noticed how close he was, and how he seemed to absorb Dean's every word when he explained all about westerns. Dean started to think that hey, this could really happen. He would invite Cas out next Friday, maybe to the Roadhouse again, just the two of them, and see where things would go from there. Like a date, only not too obvious.

He went home with a spring in his step, thinking that he would take a chance and maybe, if he were lucky, Cas would like him back. Maybe, his nerdy, adorable friend would be more than just a friend.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, August, 2013**

When John left the garage, it was almost morning, a Tuesday like any other. There was nothing different in it; the sun was still shining and people were still going to work as they always did. But Castiel's heart was heavy, and he said goodbye to Dean with a sense of foreboding he couldn't get rid of.

He spent the whole day like he was in a bad dream, something poking at the back of his mind, telling him he had to stop Dean no matter what; if only hecould. He had never felt so useless, so weak and impotent before, and as an angel, he wasn't used to that. It wasn't his place to question Death's decision, but to make him almost human, to strip him of most of his Grace only because he had questioned an order seemed too much punishment to such a little crime.

_Only, this is no little crime, Castiel. The worst thing and angel can do is to disobey, you're starting to think as a human._

_And these insolent thoughts of yours are exactly why you're in this current situation._

But he _was_ human, wasn't he? He felt love, pain, pleasure and now fear, like humans did. He was almost as human as any of them; almost as helpless and weak in the face of things he couldn't control. Just like any human, he had no control over the future; he had no say in what would happen and how. It drove him crazy.

At night, when Dean knocked at his door, when they were alone after the diner was closed, he clung to the man he loved with a desperation he had never felt before. They didn't talk about it at first, but Castiel could feel Dean's apprehension in every gesture. Dean was scared too, and Castiel felt once again the weight of his uselessness, the despair of knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop Dean from making a big mistake. He could only hope that he would be the one to steal the file, that someone up in Heaven would hear his prayers and give him at least that: the ability to be the one to break the Commandment, sparing Dean.

"You're quiet," Dean said, after a while.

"I'm always quiet, Dean."

"You're worried, aren't you? About tomorrow?"

Castiel only nodded.

"Look, Cas, if you don't wanna come, then don't. I'd feel better if I knew you were safe at home anyway."

"Just because I sweep floors, like you said, it doesn't mean I will be completely useless," Castiel replied icily. "I'm going with you."

"Hey," Dean smiled awkwardly, apologetically. "I didn't mean it like that. I didn't call you useless."

Castiel sighed. "I know. But as you said yourself, I'm a grown man, and I can make my own decisions. I'm coming with you and John."

"Okay, okay. Just… Shit, Cas, I don't wanna get you in trouble."

"Dean, let's make something clear: I completely disagree with you about this. I think this is one of the worst ideas in the world, and so many things can go wrong I can't even start thinking about them. This is illegal, not to mention dangerous, stupid and-**"**

"Cas, I know, alright? I know you don't like it, but it's for Sam, man. It's the only way."

"You didn't let me finish," Castiel said. "There's nothing about this that I like; on the contrary. I would give anything to change your mind, but I can see you already have your mind set about this. This is wrong, Dean, you and your father are wrong and I really hope none of us regrets this. But if you're going, I'm going. And I'm not changing my mind."

"Shit. Okay, then, I guess I'm not the only one who's stubborn, huh?"

"Sam is going to be very angry at you when he finds out."

"He can hate me all he wants, but I'm not gonna sit and watch his future go down the drain. Besides, he never stays angry at me for too long."

Castiel shook his head, dismayed. "Alright," he simply said.

"Let's not talk about this anymore, okay?" Dean asked, putting his hand on the nape of Castiel's neck and pulling him closer. "C'mere."

Dean kissed him hungrily, holding him tighter than he usually did, and that alone was proof that he was not alright. Castiel lost himself in his embrace, in the feeling of his mouth and his kiss, trying to ground himself in the here and now, not in the 'what ifs' of tomorrow.

Later, when Dean turned Castiel's blood to liquid fire with his hands and the angel felt his insides turning to molten lava with pleasure, all he could think was that he was not ready to lose Dean. There was a sense of dread surrounding him, and the mere thought that he could lose this, could lose Dean to some scheme he had started by defying Death in the first place, made his eyes brim with unshed tears without him even noticing it. He whimpered, hiding his face in the crook of his neck to force the tears back.

"Hey, Cas…" Dean whispered, their mouths almost touching, "It's alright. It's gonna be alright."

Castiel didn't answer,_ couldn't_ answer. He was overwhelmed with fear, with the realization that Dean's life was very much finite, and if he broke another Commandment, it would be even closer to its end. Instead, he kissed Dean harder, praying that this wonderful, perfect man would not be harmed.

If he only knew.

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, December, 1994.**

It was Dean's job to take care of Sammy and Mom, because even though he was eight when Dad left, he was the oldest man in the family.

Of course, no one had told him that. But with Mom always depressed and Sam still a baby, what else could he do? At eight, he already split his time between school, homework, and Sammy.

Not that Mom didn't take care **of** them; she did, and there was always food on their table and a kiss before bed. But she had started to work as a waitress, and because the salary was barely enough, she frequently took extra shifts, leaving Dean to take care of Sam. Of course, sometimes her friends helped, but Dean insisted in taking care of his baby brother by himself. It was _his_ baby brother, his responsibility and no one else's.

At thirteen, Dean's grades at school were abysmal, but he always managed to pass the year. He didn't have many friends, because all that mattered to him was his family. He helped at Missouri's diner and at Bobby's garage sometimes, and they always gave him a few bucks. He saved every cent he could to help Mom. Life wasn't perfect, and he couldn't say he had much of a childhood. But it was good.

Only, sometimes, all of this wasn't enough.

The first time he shoplifted, it was at a bakery. He grabbed a piece of chocolate cake and ran. It was Mom's birthday and he wanted to surprise her. The smile she gave him and the affection in her eyes made it all worthwhile, so he never regretted it.

Then there was the other week, when Dean had gone to **Wal-Mart** and bought the cheapest winter jacket he'd found. Sammy was getting big and his clothes barely fit him anymore. The jacket was twenty-six bucks and Dean only had fifteen. Even so, he went to the cashier and gave her the jacket and the money.

"Twenty six dollars, please," the girl with red hair and bored expression said.

"I – I only have fifteen," he mumbled.

"Then you can't take the coat," she said, glaring at him.

"Please, miss, it's for my little brother…"

She looked at him coldly. "Look, there are people waiting behind you. If you don't have the money for the coat, put it back and go."

"Please…" he hated begging; hated it with everything he had. But it was for Sammy, so he would beg if he had to. "The winter's too cold, he'll catch pneumonia if he-**"**

"Look, boy, I can't help you, okay?" the cashier rolled her eyes and said loudly, "If I let you walk away with it I can be fired or they will deduct it from my salary."

Humiliation tinted Dean's cheeks red. He looked at the people behind him, and every single person in line was looking at him with consternation.

"O – Okay then, I'll just – "

"Wait a minute!" said an old lady next to him.

"I'm sorry, I'm already leaving, please don't-**"** he was ready to beg her not to call the cops.

"Here, take this, darling," she gave him twenty dollars. "Take the coat to your little brother."

Dean shook his head. He wouldn't accept charity. "I can't, m'am, thank you, b - but…" he said, looking at the floor, embarrassment making him stutter.

"Young man, I was poor when I was young. I know how it feels to be cold and hungry."

Dean's head jerked up. "I'm not hungry. My mother takes good care of us." He felt the need to defend Mary; she did her best and it wasn't her fault that she was sick because her bedroom didn't have a proper heater.

"Even so, darling. Take the money, please," she said, smiling kindly. **(")**I insist. Your little brother needs it."

Dean thought for a minute. What was more important? To keep his brother warm or to keep his pride?

In the end, he took the money and told his mother he had bought the coat in a clearance sale.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, August, 2013**

"I still have a bad feeling about this." Castiel said, as he put the black mask over his face. "I feel like a criminal."

"That's because we _are_ criminals, Cas," Dean snapped, irritated. But seeing Castiel's mask askew, he grimaced. "C'mere," he said softly this time, adjusting the mask on Castiel's face. "C'mon, Dad and Charlie will arrive any minute now."

They were in the back of the police station, across the street, behind a wall of an old vacant lot. The night was calm, a Wednesday night like any other, and the streets were usually empty at one thirty in the morning. Tonight was no exception, and Castiel breathed through the mask, watching Dean wearily.

The plan was simple, but there were so many variables that could turn it into a disaster, that Castiel didn't even want to contemplate them right now, if ever.

John and Charlie would wait until two in the morning and then go to the police station. They would simulate a couple**'s** fight to attract the attention of the policeman on the front desk. Then, while the man tried to calm a nervous John, Charlie would go to the restroom and put a lighter near the smoke detector. When the fire alarm sounded and everyone started leaving the building, Dean and Castiel would enter through the back door to steal Sam's file. Charlie would sneak up to the central computer and delete any records about Sam's arrest, as well as any mention of him she could find. Simple, and probably fast, unless the police were better prepared than Dean and John thought.

Dean was nervous, but he had even laughed at Castiel's worries, saying that nothing would go wrong and they would be in and out in the blink of an eye.

Castiel wished he could tell Dean about the threat that loomed over him. But unless Dean saw a demon with his own eyes, like John had, – and Castiel prayed this would never happen – he wouldn't believe.

"You anxious?" Dean asked, looking at Castiel worriedly. "I still think you should've stayed, Cas. What if you get hurt?"

"We've talked about this. What if _you_ get hurt, Dean? Don't you see that the worry goes both ways?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, but I told you… this is not the first time I've done something like this."

"Trespassing and stealing food or clothes is not the same thing as invading a police station," Castiel said coldly. "I told you, this is not the first time for me. I _am_ going with you."

"Alright, alright Daredevil. I get it. I just can't imagine you doing anything like that; you look like an eighteen year old nerd." Dean looked at his watch nervously. "Almost two. I hope Charlie and Dad don't mess up."

They waited and waited, and these final minutes seeming endless to the angel. Dean rubbed his hands to ward off the cold, but Castiel was so apprehensive that he was sweating. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush, because his body wasn't used to this.

The fire alarm sounded. Dean looked at Castiel expectantly. "Okay, we count five minutes and go." He looked at his watch, pressing the timer. "Get ready," he whispered.

Dean didn't take his eyes from his watch, counting the minutes, and Castiel's heart was beating so fast he swore Dean could hear it.

The moment he dreaded so much finally came. "It's time. C'mon!" Dean pulled at Castiel's arm.

"Dean, no!"Castiel clung to his arm in a desperate attempt to stop him. "You can't go in there!"

"_Now_ you tell me?" Dean looked at him with disbelief. "Man, if you chickened out I'll go alone"

"It's not that!" Castiel was desperately looking for something that would convince Dean to stay. "I can go alone! You stay here and watch the entrance."

"No way!" Dean snapped. "And while we're chatting here, Charlie and Dad are in there doing their part. Cut the crap and let's do ours!"

Then Dean was already running and crossing the street to the police station's back window. Castiel followed him, alarms sounding in his head louder than the fire alarm itself. _No, no, no, no, no_, he kept thinking, unable to do anything to stop Dean from getting inside the building.

The window was a little higher than they'd hoped, but Dean jumped with ease and clung to the windowsill, pushing his body inside. Castiel was right behind him, looking around frantically as if that would show him a way to stop th**is** madness. But there was nothing.

The window led to a small storage room, with a lot of paper, a few empty boxes, dusty and old computers and even older desks. Dean was already opening the door, only a crack so he could see when the policemen left, as Castiel got inside.

"Careful!" Castiel said, touching Dean's shoulder.

"Come on, come on!" Dean whispered. "Corridor's empty."

With the**ir** back**s** glued to the wall, they crept down the empty hall to the main archive's room. It was big and poorly lit, with racks and racks of file folders meticulously aligned.

"Sam's must be the most recent one," Castiel whispered, going to the shelf closer to the door.

"I'll take a look over there," Dean said, pointing to another shelf at the end of the room, labeled with a W.

It took some time, because the police department was in dire need of an archivist and the fact that they were wearing gloves made everything more complicated.

After a few minutes, Dean's cell phone vibrated. He looked at the message. "Charlie deleted Sam's records. She's already outside with Dad; they're getting the hell outta here."

Castiel was getting anxious. In no time, the policemen would realize it had been a false alarm, or worse, that it had been on purpose. They would look for intruders and they would find them, all dressed in black, faces covered, stealing the police's secret archives. Oh God.

"Shit, shit, come on, where's Winchester, Winchester…" Dean muttered. "Crap, who put these files here? There's not a single name with a W!" he hissed.

But finally, _finally, _Castiel pulled a manila envelope out of the last drawer, with 'Samuel Winchester' written on it.

"I found it!" he said, triumphantly, turning to Dean.

"Lemme see," Dean grabbed the envelope from Castiel's hands and opened it, spreading its contents over a nearby table."

"We don't have time for this!" Castiel urged.

"Wait, I need to see if everything's here!"

"Dean! We need to leave!"

"Alright, alright!" Dean started to put the papers in the envelope again, but Castiel just grabbed everything and put it under his arm. The last thing he needed now was for Dean to walk out of the building carrying the file. He idly thought that, if Dean walked out without the product of the theft they had just committed, technically he wouldn't have stolen anything. It was a very small hope to cling to, but it was all he had.

"Okay. Let's get out of here." Dean walked to the door and put his hand on the doorknob.

Then, all the lights went out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_Never pay back evil for evil to anyone. _

_Respect what is right in the sight of all men. _

_If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men._

_Never take your own revenge, beloved, _

_but leave room for the wrath of God, for it is written,_

_"Vengeance is Mine, I will repay," says the Lord._

_**Matthew 5:44-46**_

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, March, 1996**

Dean didn't believe in God. If he existed, why did He let people suffer and bad things happen? Why the wars, why do people starved, why do children die? He could draw comfort from the fact that there was no God, because the alternative – that He just didn't care – was far worse.

He used to go to the church with Mom and Dad when he was small, but when Dad left, Mom stopped going. Years later, when she started going to church again, Dean refused to go with her. Maybe her faith in God had been only momentarily shaken; but his was lost forever.

He taught Sammy how to pray, nevertheless. And every time his little brother asked something about God and Mom wasn't there to answer, Dean tried to do his best and answer Sam the way Mom would have. But it wasn't easy, because deep down he knew God was just one more fairytale, like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy. And if He existed, He didn't give a shit about them.

Alright, Mom was happier now, and Sammy was growing up happy enough. But Dean didn't thank God for that. It was just luck and chance, randomly given to people and randomly taken away at the turn of the tide; and maybe a little determination **in** the mix.

He never told anyone, though, because every night Mom came to tuck him in bed, up until he was eighteen, and he would never tell a living soul, but it was the best moment of his day. He loved her warmth and the smell of her hair when she kissed his cheek, and the softness of her hands when she caressed his forehead.

And she would always say "Goodnight, baby. Angels are watching over you."

He didn't believe it, of course. But knowing she wished an angel watched over him was enough to make him fall asleep feeling safe.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, August, 2013.**

"Fuck, what was that?" Dean hissed, searching for Castiel's hand in the dark.

Castiel's heart started beating faster. He could feel something bad was about to happen. Running to the nearest window, he saw what he feared the most: a cloud of black smoke approaching the police station, while thunder and rain abruptly started outside.

"Dean!" he said loudly, grabbing at Dean's arm, "Whatever happens, I want you to leave this place now!"

"What? Cas, we're both getting out of here!"

Castiel put his hands on Dean's shoulders and shook him a little. "Not anymore! Leave!"

"Are you crazy?" Dean yelled, opening the door and pulling Castiel along with him through the corridor.

"Leave!" Castiel yelled again, but there was no time: seven policemen suddenly stood before them, and the lightning outside illuminated their faces, with completely black eyes and angry expressions.

"The hell?" Dean yelled beside Castiel. "_What_ are these people?"

The angel didn't answer. He shoved Dean inside the nearest room, while the demons advanced in his direction, smiling devilishly and pointing guns at him. His momentum caught Dean off guard and Castiel managed to lock the door, trapping Dean inside.

"What – Cas!" he heard Dean yell, but he was already drawing out his angel blade and facing the demons.

Even with his Grace depleted, Castiel hoped he would be able to defeat them. There was no way he could let them get to Dean. These were low-level demons, judging by their black eyes, but Castiel knew they would be much stronger than a human.

He hadn't tested his ability against so many demons in his new weakened condition, but even like that, he hadn't lost his familiarity with situations where fighting was required. He readied himself, and when the first blows came, he started moving with the fluidity and confidence of someone used to **a** fight.

He blocked blow after blow, keeping his senses alert and his attention focused solely on the enemies. He was outnumbered, and a few gunshots managed to escape the invisible barrier formed by the movements of his blade, but maybe he moved too fast, or maybe it was luck, but the bullets only scratched his skin. Slowly, he defeated demon by demon, and one by one, they fell with the sharp blows he delivered. It took some time, though, and by the end of it, he was panting and completely exhausted.

Dean was yelling from the other room, to be set free, banging furiously at the door, and when the last demon fell, Castiel unlocked the door, covered in sweat and still panting.

"What the fuck you think you're-**"** Dean started, but then he saw all the demons on the floor. "Oh God, Cas, what did you do? How did you-**"**

"We don't have time for this, Dean!" Castiel yelled. "You need to get out of here _now_!"

"Hello, boys," a male voice with a British accent said, from behind them.

"I wouldn't be in such a hurry if I were you." Castiel turned, and there was Crowley, with his gruesome red eyes, flanked by five or six black-eyed demons.

"You!" Castiel said in disbelief, his eyes widening. It was really him; Crowley wasn't dead, after all.

"What the fuck, dude, where did you come from?" Dean yelled, incredulous. "Did you just pop here?"

"We killed you," Castiel said, shaking his head. "The ritual, it was correct; we did everything right! Why are you still alive?"

Crowley smiled, almost sweetly. "Oh, angel, your good heart will be the death of you one day. Hey, maybe this day is today, uh?" He looked at Dean and then at Castiel again, winking flirtatiously. "You and that noble man left the meat suit alive, he even called 911. Imagine my joy when I realized I had someone to return to."

"I killed you," Castiel repeated.

"Cas?" Dean looked from Castiel to Crowley, frowning. "Do you know this asshole?"

But Crowley didn't pay attention, and Castiel was too focused on the demon to answer. "You tried, angel," Crowley went on. "And it would have worked! But me and dear Fergus McLeod here – that's the meat suit name – we have a pact, and you see, one can only die if the other is dead too. But you, good old fools, you left him alive."

"I don't kill innocent people!" Castiel said indignantly.

"You should have, because the pact was made with ashes and blood, and he can only die when I die too – which will be never – but the opposite worked just fine this time. You left the bastard alive, and I didn't die because of it."

Castiel pulled Dean behind him and brandished his blade. "Come on," he said, eyeing Crowley defiantly. "Don't waste my time, demon. Let's get this over with, and I'll be sure to kill you this time."

"What-**"** Dean murmured, astonished. "Cas?"

Crowley made a dismissive gesture at Dean with his hand. "Calm down, Ken Doll, I know it's probably too much for your idiotic brain to understand, but I need to talk to the angel here, alright?"

"You are not going to harm Dean," Castiel snarled. "You'll have to kill me first, assbutt."

Crowley smiled. "No need to use terms of endearment with me. And killing you? That can be arranged, you know. Only, making you suffer will be much more fun!" he rubbed his hands, excited. "I can barely wait."

Castiel took a step forward, but Crowley didn't move, and at the same time his lackeys advanced to Castiel with knives in their hands.

The angel immediately began to refute all the coup attempts of the demons, in a graceful, precise and lethal dance. He could feel the incredulous look of Dean on him. He had no idea of how he would explain everything to him, but he could not think about that now. First had to get Dean out of there. Alive.

But little by little, his tiredness was getting to him, and he could not rely on his Grace to maintain the necessary agility. One knife hit his left flank, and as he bent to the side, with his hand on the bleeding wound, one of the demons passed by him and grabbed Dean, throwing him with ease against the opposite wall.

"Dean!" Castiel cried, redoubling his efforts, trying to ignore the pain that radiated through his torso.

Dean stood up slowly, hands clenched in fists, preparing to face the demon that advanced to him, but Castiel buried his knife in the nape of the demon's neck, while pushing his leg up, and he hit, with his foot, the other demon behind him square on the chest.

"Oh, you useless and stupid scum," Crowley said. "What's that popular saying? If you want something done, do it yourself."

The red-eyed demon snapped his fingers and suddenly, the other demons vanished, leaving Crowley alone with Castiel and Dean.

Crowley looked at Castiel pointedly. "You do realize that if he leaves this place with his brother's folder, it will be considered as theft."

Castiel gripped his angel blade tighter. "I'm aware," he said.

"Who are you?" Dean grunted at Crowley.

The demon gave him an almost benevolent smile. "I'm one of the things that go bump into the night. One you were not supposed to know about. But unfortunately, because of your friend here, now you know that I exist. I could say I'm sorry, but I'm really not."

"What are you, you son of a bitch?" Dean insisted.

"I'm a demon. But you can also call me fiend, deuce, dickens, boomer… you choose, monkey. I like all of them."

"You gotta be kidding me," Dean murmured, looking at Castiel as if waiting for him to confirm.

But Castiel only had eyes for Crowley now. Between the pain he was feeling, the blood dripping freely from his body and his worry for Dean, he was starting to feel dizzy. Blinking several times, he shook his head and took a step forward, putting Dean behind him once more.

"Crowley, let Dean go. Your problem is with me. Let's solve this once and for all."

"Oh, little angel, but I'm not nearly finished with you."

"Let Dean go, Crowley. I'm not going to say it twice," Castiel threatened.

"Or you'll do what?" the demon laughed. "Kill me? Don't be ridiculous. You are so, so funny, angel."

"Dean, go," Castiel said to the man. "I'll cover for you."

"No way, Cas," Dean said, shaking his head resolutely. "And leave you with this lunatic?"

"He can take care of himself, believe me," Crowley snorted. "Please, leave, and you'll be doing me a huge favor."

Castiel knew that he had no way out of this. He couldn't let Dean stay, because Crowley would not hesitate to hurt him, and Castiel was not sure he would be able to protect the man. But if Dean left with the folders, another Commandment would be broken, and he would be closer to his death.

He didn't have much of a choice in the end. Dean pushed him to the side and stood beside him, facing Crowley defiantly. Crowley raised his hand in Dean's direction, face gleaming with triumph, and the palm of his hand turned bright red. He was going to hurt Dean if Castiel didn't do **some**thing.

The angel called to the little Grace he still had in a desperate attempt keep Dean alive. He called to every particle of it**(**;**)** every piece of the celestial power buried deep inside his being, his very essence, and coalesced all the power into a ball of energy inside his chest. He could feel his eyes starting to glow, silver-blue and cold, his body lit with heavenly light, and he called lightning to light up the room.

Two huge, massive wings appeared, reflected on the wall behind him, its shadows framing his figure.

Beside him, Dean gasped and took several steps away from him.

"You're bluffing!" Crowley yelled. "I know you're drained!"

"Do you really want to take that chance?" the angel asked, his wings' images unfurling even more **o**n the wall.

Crowley looked at Castiel, narrowing his eyes as if to read what Castiel was capable of. Then, he huffed an annoyed breath, snapped his fingers, and disappeared.

Outside, the heavy rain and the lightning stopped. The image of Castiel's wings disappeared. He collapsed on the ground, completely drained, his body heavy with pain and exhaustion. "Dean…" he whispered, raising his eyes and looking at Dean, who hadn't moved yet since Crowley's departure.

"What the hell are you?" Dean asked, his face white with bewilderment.

Castiel winced. "I can explain," he said, raising his hand to Dean.

Dean took a step back. "Get away from me. You're not human."

"I'm-**"**

"I don't want to know." Dean looked at Castiel, and there was betrayal and hurt in his eyes. "Are they all dead?" he asked, looking at the bodies on the ground all over the place.

Castiel closed his eyes, resigned. "My blade cannot hurt humans. Only the demons inside them are dead. They will wake up hurt, but alive."

They heard banging coming from the front door, and suddenly, there were loud sirens outside.

"Go," Castiel whispered.

Dean looked at him once more, pressing his lips firmly together, and then he was gone, through the same window he had come in, taking Sam's file with him.

_You shall not steal._

Castiel didn't have strength for anything else. As soon as Dean left the police station, the pain of another broken Commandment hit the angel full in the chest, and he whimpered in pain and hopelessness. He had failed again. He just wanted to lie down on the floor and sleep. Maybe this would be just a bad dream and he would wake up in Dean's arms.

He had to talk to Dean. He needed to explain. Bur first, he needed to get out of there.

The voices were getting closer and soon the remaining policemen would come and see his colleagues on the floor, some of them with blood on their clothes. Castiel didn't even trust himself to get up and leave the place, as weak as he was. He had lost a lot of blood already, his human body getting dizzy and his vision blotchy. Castiel could feel the first tendrils of unconsciousness coming at him, and he was powerless to stop them.

"Gabriel, brother," he whispered, using the last of his ability to concentrate on anything. "Gabriel, please… help me…brother, I need you." Then, with another whimper, he welcomed the blackness that engulfed him.

**THEN**

**Chicago, Illinois, March, 2013**

When the Angel of Death told Castiel he would be banished from Heaven, without most of his Grace, the angel didn't know what to expect. But when he woke up naked, in the middle of a forest, unable to fly long distances or to make himself invisible, he knew he needed help. And there was only one that would help someone in his situation.

"Brother Gabriel, this is Castiel. I know you are stationedon Earth and I am in dire need of help." He prayed, concentrating on his older brother, whom he had not seen since 1920.

"I like the way you look," was the first thing Gabriel said to him, eyeing Castiel up and down. "Your Grace manifested in a good looking guy. Good for you."

Every time an angel came to Earth, his Grace manifested itself into a physical form, a human body that was different from angel to angel. Therefore, unlike demons, an angel's human body was his own, so the angel would not possess a human being. Possession was for demons, filthy creatures that they were.

Castiel would like to say "likewise" to Gabriel's comment, but he was not one to lie. Gabriel's physical appearance was… unimpressive. He was short, had light brown hair, and a funny face that gave the impression he was always mocking you. Well, maybe he was. Castiel was aware of his nakedness, and extremely uncomfortable by it.

"Could you find me some clothes?" he said to his brother.

Gabriel smirked. "Sure, bro." he touched Castiel's temple and suddenly they were inside a luxurious apartment. Castiel was clean and fully clothed.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Gabriel said, making a wide gesture with his arm. "I took the liberty to indulge myself in a few earthly comforts. Don't tell the Boss."

When Castiel explained his situation to his brother, Gabriel let out a low whistle. "Bro, you are one stupid angel. Brave, but stupid."

"At least I fight for my beliefs," Castiel said, sulking.

"Yeah, and look at what your beliefs cost you. You _rebelled_, bro, in case you didn't notice. You're banned from Heaven until further notice, which means, until this… what's his name?"

"Dean," Castiel growled.

"Yeah, until Dean's death. You're stuck here, with your Grace diminished, missing Heaven already. I hope you know Death just trapped you in an impasse: unless Dean disobeys the Ten Commandments, you will never be able to return to Heaven. That could take years, Cassie; Dean's entire lifetime. If Dean disobeys, though, he will die and you will return home berating yourself, knowing you failed, because you wanted him to have a long life."

Castiel nodded, knowing his brother was right. Thinking about his situation made Castiel incredibly angry; even though he tried to think reasonably and calm himself, because anger wasn't something an angel should have. But he had just been thrown here without any aid. If not for Gabriel, who had been stationed in Earth since the Middle Ages, what would have happened to him?

"Little bro, I'm sorry to say, but you're fucked with a major F. Come on, The _Ten Fucking Commandments_? Really?"

"Gabriel, don't swear."

"Whatever.**"** Gabriel rolled his eyes. "But frankly, Cassie, how did you put yourself in a situation like th**is**?"

Castiel sighed. "I have no idea. Maybe Death didn't like that I begged for the man's life."

"You think?" Gabriel snorted. "He's pissed, Cassie. _Pissed_. I told you, this is considered _rebellion_! And nothing good will come from this, because if you think Death gave you a chance, you're fooling yourself. He gave you a fucking gun to put a bullet in your own head."

"Gabriel, you're swearing again," Castiel complained. "And **I** am fully aware of my situation. But I couldn't just let him take Dean's soul when it's not… it's not fair at all!"

"Come on, Cassie. You know fairness has nothing to do with it."

"Don't call me Cassie. And what do you mean, it has nothing to do with it?"

"I mean, little brother, that all angels do these little 'works' for Death at some point. _All_ angels. Even me, before I was sent here. But no one ever had the courage to question him. He's influent**;** the Boss practically lets him do whatever he wants. Of course none of us likes to take a young life; when it's a child, you can see how displeased the angel gets. But no one _ever _questioned him. And then there's you."

"I just… I couldn't do it," Castiel sighed again. "I spent almost a week observing Dean, and I couldn't take his soul. I… I wish this task hadn't been required of me.**"**

"Holy shit! You are in love with the human!" Gabriel ran his hands through his hair, exasperated.

"Brother, please! Don't swear, and don't blaspheme!" Castiel insisted. "I am not in love with Dean. I saw him only five or six times."

"Cassie… get real. You are completely smitten. If not, how come you had the courage to say no to Death?"

"I didn't say no. I just… reasoned and begged and pleaded and…" Castiel widened his eyes. "Oh."

"Oh?" Gabriel arched his eyebrows.

"I am in love with a human."

"Told you so."

Castiel covered his mouth with his hand. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"I don't know. Maybe you should befriend this Dean, and maybe see if he likes you back?"

"Gabriel, this is serious!"

"I'm being serious! Why do people always assume I'm not?"

"I'm not people."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Look, you want to protect the guy?You don't want him to die? What better way to protect him than being close to him?"

Castiel thought about it for a few minutes, and Gabriel looked at him expectantly. "You have a point," Castiel finally conceded.

"See? I'm a genius!"

"Thank you, Gabriel. I can never repay what you're doing for me."

"Bull shit." The older angel patted Castiel's back. "That's what big brothers are for. Now, where does this charming prince live?"

"Lawrence, Kansas."

Gabriel smiled. "Perfect! Cassie, today is your lucky day. I know someone who can help you; an old friend of mine."

Castiel nodded, relieved that his big brother was helping him. Gabriel knew everything a bout Earth. Castiel, on the other hand, was not versed in earthly matters, having only being on Earth briefly, when his job required. He was not familiar with the way humans talked or walked or behaved. Without help, he would be a failure at befriending Dean Winchester and preventing his death.

Because Castiel's mind was set: he would prevent Dean from disobeying the Ten Commandments, and from dying; even that would take him away from home until Dean died of old age. He couldn't bear to think that the beautiful light from Dean's soul would leave Earth so soon. It just wasn't _right._

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, August, 2013**

Castiel woke up in his room at the back of the diner. He fought a moment of disorientation, but after a few seconds, everything came back in his mind at once: the invasion, the theft, Crowley, _Dean_.

Dean looking at him like Castiel had hurt him deeply.

He sat up, groaning as dizziness came as soon as he moved.

"You're awake. Good," Gabriel said. He was sitting on a chair beside Castiel's bed. "Feeling better?"

"Yes," was all Castiel said. Considering he'd felt like he was dying before he passed out, he was ten times better. He noticed his wound had disappeared, so that counted as progress.

"I fixed everything at the police station. Put everything in place. Erased the memory of the poor people the demons used as meat suits, healed all their wounds. Also, all the cops and witnesses; no one remembers a thing."

"Thank you."

Gabriel sighed. "Little bro, what did you get yourself into this time?"

"Crowley. He has escaped from prison and he wants revenge, and he wants to make Dean suffer to punish me."

"Yeah, I know," Gabriel's tone was sad. "I heard on the angel radio. Poor Samandriel." The he took a deep breath. "But no one told me Crowley came after you."

Castiel wanted to say that's probably because no one cared. Angels didn't care about their fallen brothers, and Castiel, banned, as he was, was as much cast out as any fallen angel. "He wants to take Dean's soul to Hell. He says I will suffer knowing Dean is in eternal torment. He's been helping Dean break the Commandments – six, already – so Dean will die faster and he'll take his soul."

"Shit."

"So far, he's already possessed Dean's father and his brother Sam. I exorcised him, but a pact made with blood between him and his host prevented him from dying because I left the host alive. He attacked us at the police station, but he escaped and I know there's more coming; he won't stop until he takes Dean to Hell."

"Holy shit."

"Gabriel, you're swearing."

"Bro, you are in deep shit. I don't know how to help you."

"You already did."

Gabriel got up and started to pace the small bedroom. "Cassie, I wish I could do more. But you _understand _I can't, don't you?"

"Yes. I don't want to cause you trouble. If you kill Crowley, or even go after him, our brothers and sisters will know, and eventually they will get to me. If Death finds out you're helping me, you're in trouble, and you won't be able to help any of the fallen angels anymore. And I more than suspect I will be in trouble too." _And Dean_, Castiel wanted to say, because he hadn't forgotten Death's threat. "Maybe Death will turn me into an angel statue, in a cemetery somewhere."

"They have already sent a garrison to look for Crowley. He escaped prison, after all, they want to send him back there."

"I can only hope they will catch him soon."

"Listen, I will look for the demon discreetly. If I find anything, I'll see what I can do. Maybe if you're lucky, Naomi can smite him for you. She's on the garrison, and I bet she would love it, since Crowley trapped her in the past."

"I don't think that will be so easy, Gabriel. From what I've seen so far, I'm not the luckiest of angels."

Gabriel's expression deflated. "Oh, I… I forgot to tell you."

"What?" Castiel gulped, bracing himself for more bad news.

"Your Grace, it's…" Gabriel took a deep breath. "It's gone."

Castiel felt like all his blood left his brain in a rush. "What?"

"I prodded a little while I was healing you, and… it's gone, little brother. I think you burned the rest of it when you were fighting with Crowley and his gang."

"Does this mean I'm … human now?"

Gabriel's eyes widened. "Oh, no, no. I can still see your wings."

Castiel moved his shoulders a little. "I can't feel them."

"But they're there. Look, maybe the little Grace you had, you burned with the fight and that's it, or maybe it will come back eventually, I don't know. It's got to be at least a little bit in you, somewhere, although I can't feel its presence. Because you don't have a soul, since you're an angel and all, but you're not an empty shell, that much I can tell you."

"I'm… relieved. That I'm not empty." The thought of his body walking, talking, _breathing_ without neither Grace nor soul inside it was too terrifying, and Castiel shook his head, as if to send the thought away.

"The thing is…"Gabriel's eyes were sad when he looked at Castiel. "There's nothing I can do. I'm sorry, but… you're as human as a fallen angel." Suddenly, Gabriel raised his head and looked to the ceiling, as if he was seeing something. "I'm being called. Gotta go."

"Thank you once again, brother."

"Take care, Cassie. Pray if you need anything, and I'll come, alright? And please, bro, try to stay safe, will you?" And in the next second, Gabriel wasn't there anymore.

Castiel sighed and got up, not feeling any dizziness this time. Looking at the clock, he saw it was eleven P.M., which meant he had slept for almost twenty-four hours. Gabriel had probably asked Missouri to let him rest, but he couldn't go back to sleep. He had to talk to Dean. He needed to see him, and maybe explain himself as best as he could.

Dean had seen Crowley's eyes. He had also seen Castiel's wings, and although the angel couldn't tell him about the Ten Commandments, now he could tell him that he was an angel – not that it wasn't obvious now.

He didn't know what Dean's reaction would be. But he knew he had to do _something_, and he wouldn't be able to wait until morning. He knew Dean was still awake, adrenaline still fueling him because of all the things that had happened the previous night.

He needed to at least try.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

_"Because ye have said, _

_We have made a covenant with death, _

_and with hell are we at agreement;_

_for we have made lies our refuge, _

_and under falsehood have we hid ourselves:_

_the hail shall sweep away the refuge of lies, _

_and the waters shall overflow the hiding place._

_Isaiah 28:15,17_

**THEN**

**Heaven**

"Where is Anael?"

"Didn't you hear, brother?" Rachel looked at Castiel with sad eyes. "She fell."

"What?" Castiel couldn't believe his ears. Anael had always been the most obedient of them. She was the garrison's general, a true leader. How could she have fallen?

"She fell in love with a man; a human, Castiel!" Rachel said, exasperated. "She left us to become a mortal!"

"I don't understand," Castiel murmured. "What happens to the garrison now?"

"I guess you will be the new leader, as you were her second-in-command."

"I don't want to be a leader. I want our sister back."

"That is not happening, and you know it," Rachel's tone was heavy. "Those who chose to fall can never come back, even if they regret their decision."

"But what will become of her? How will she live without her Grace?"

"The man she fell for will help her, I suppose."

"But… is he at least worthy of her?"

Rachel widened her eyes. "Careful, brother, this can be considered blasphemy! No mortal is worthy of us. We are angels; we serve the Lord."

"Can't our pride be considered a blasphemy too?"Castiel questioned her. "We were made to serve the Lord; therefore, we are mere servants. Didn't Father tell us to love humans?"

"Yes, but not one in particular! He wants us to love all humankind!"

"But why can't Anael love one man and still serve the Lord?"

"Brother, please!" Rachel said, distressed. "Your questions are strange and they make me worry about you. You must not question our orders!"

"I am not questioning, Rachel!" Castiel insisted. "I merely want to know why-**"**

"Enough, brother! Someone may hear your words and interpret them as disobedience. It's not our place to ask why things are the way they are. We just serve, nothing more."

"I know. Forgive me."

"Come, we must gather the garrison and tell them you are our general now."

"As you wish," Castiel said, resigned, promising himself he would try to find Anael next time his duties took him to Earth. _Just to check_, he told himself. Just to see if she was happy with her choice.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, August, 2013**

The walk to the garage took some time, because Castiel's body hurt and he felt heavy with tiredness. That, and the inability to fly because of his lack of Grace. He walked slowly, stopping every few minutes to look around. Who knew who or what could be watching. After all that had happened that night, he had to be extra cautious from now on.

As he had imagined, Dean was in the garage, but he wasn't alone; Sam was with him. Castiel could see them through the locked glass door, but when he knocked, and when Dean saw him, he turned his back and went inside the office.

Castiel's heart sank. Dean refused to let him inside.

"I'm sorry, Castiel," said Sam, who took pity on him and went to talk to him outside. "Dean didn't want to tell me what happened, but he said that you messed things up between you guys."

"Is he alright? Is he hurt?"

"He's fine. At least physically."

"I really ruined everything," Castiel said, more to himself.

"I'm pissed at him, you know; at all of you. More than pissed, actually. How could you guys risk yourselves like that?" Sam finally lost the calm he had been showing so far, balling his fists.

"He told you, then."

"He didn't tell me anything. He's been here since yesterday night, and he's angry, sad, he's… he's a mess. Dad ended up telling me what you did at the police station, and he gave me the file you guys stole. We burned it."

"I'm glad you destroyed the evidence."

"But if things had gone wrong – if, if anyone had seen you there, things would get so much worse, and not only for you, for me too. I told Dean he is forbidden to meddle with my life, ever again."

"He feels responsible for your safety."

"Well, he's not. If you haven't noticed, I'm a big boy. Hell, I'm bigger than any of you!"

"Dean said you will forgive him eventually. He's counting on that."

Sam sighed. "I probably will. Shit, what you guys did was beyond irresponsible, and as a lawyer I can't condone this. But… well, with the records gone, I guess my name is clean again. I just hope no one will remember this ever happened."

"No one will," Castiel said with conviction, remembering that Gabriel had taken care of it. He had erased everyone's memories, hadn't he? Not that he could tell that to Sam.

There was a moment of silence in which Castiel felt Sam studying him curiously. "You're strange sometimes, Cas."

"I've been told that more than once." Castiel felt so heavy that he just had to sit down, and the sidewalk was just a good place as any.

"Cas, what happened between you and Dean?" Sam said, crouching next to Castiel and looking at him with dismay. "He is fuming, and he looks… drained! What the hell, you guys were more than fine yesterday!"

Castiel shook his head. "I can't tell you, Sam. I'm sorry. But maybe Dean will."

"He told me not to talk about you ever again. And to stop talking to you."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Listen, Cas, even if I don't know what happened… you risked your neck for me and I appreciate it; even if it was against the law and stupid. I know when Dean decides something, no one can stop him."

"You're welcome, Sam."

"So, if… you know, if you wanna go in there and talk to him, I'll pretend I didn't see you getting inside."

"He'll be angry at you."

"Yeah, I know, but I'm angry at him too, so…"

"Thank you," was all Castiel could say. He got up slowly, leaning against the wall for support.

Sam got up too. "You okay?"

"Yes, just… tired."

"I'm on my way home. Go on, Cas, talk to him. Whatever this is, it's not beyond repair, I'm sure."

Castiel only nodded, because Sam had no idea how wrong he was.

He didn't knock, just went inside the garage, locked the door behind him and went straight to the office, where Dean was sitting behind the desk with a beer in his hand and his head resting on his other arm, his eyes closed.

"I told you to go home, Sammy," he said tiredly, not opening his eyes.

Castiel took a deep breath. It was now or never. "It's me."

"Shit!" Dean almost jumped from the chair, spilling beer everywhere. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"We need to talk."

"No we don't!" Dean shouted. "You – you – what the hell are you, anyways?" he asked, taking several steps back, away from Castiel, until his back hit the wall of the small office. "That thing you did with the wings, was that a trick or what?"

"Will you let me explain?" Castiel took one step forward, but Dean raised his hand in a stop gesture.

"Stay there, I'm warning you! You wanna talk, then talk, but stay where you are."

"Dean, please…"

"You're not human," Dean said, his eyes heavy with accusation.

Castiel sighed. "No. I'm not."

Dean gulped. "Neither is that guy who attacked us. Or any of the others."

"No."

"Right," Dean ran a hand over his face, clearly distressed. "That man said he was a – a demon."

"He is," Castiel said, trying to remain calm, but his heart was beating so fast that he thought Dean could hear it. "As all the others that attacked us."

"And you are…?" Dean crossed his arms, trying to project anger, but what Castiel saw in his eyes was far worse: fear.

"I'm an Angel of the Lord," he said, straightening himself, trying to show all the confidence he didn't feel.

Dean snorted. "There's no such thing as angels."

Castiel huffed a sigh. "If you believe it is possible that demons exist, why not angels?"

"Because it would mean there is a God, and there is a Devil, and this shit is too Bible camp for me."

"I can assure you that God is very real. As is the Devil."

Dean gave a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah, that makes me feel so much better."

Castiel tried to take a step in Dean's direction again. "Dean-**"**

"Stop right there, I told you!" Dean snapped. "You think I'm stupid? You think I'm gonna fall in your pretty story about Heaven and Hell? How naïve do you think I am? This is bull shit!"

"Your lack of faith is disturbing." Castiel said, starting to lose his patience. "I'm standing right here, in front of you. You saw my wings. You saw Crowley's red eyes, and the other demons' black ones. And still you doubt?"

"Listen, asshole, no more twilight Zone talk, okay?" Dean tightened his crossed arms. "Tell me what really happened. No funny tricks this time."

"You saw what happened, Dean!" Castiel was exasperated now. "I didn't use any 'trick', I'm not a magician; I'm an Angel. Those demons wanted to hurt us. I believe one of them possessed Sam!"

Dean's eyes widened. "Who did what?"

"That's why Sam doesn't remember what happened; that's why he had marijuana with him. He was possessed."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"You saw it!" Castiel clenched his fists. "You saw the demons and what they did, how they turned to black smoke when I killed them! How can you_ not_ believe it?"

"I don't know what I saw anymore. You – you had – you had fucking wings! And I don't-**"**

"Dean, please, let me-**"**

"Shut the fuck up!" Dean yelled, his face suddenly very red. "You come here and say you're a fucking angel, and you expect me to what – to throw myself at your feet? To start praying and singing religious hymns?" He ran his hand through his hair. "This is fucking crazy, you gotta be kidding me," he gave a humorless laugh.

"Dean…"

"I need to sit down," Dean said, pulling a nearby chair to him and sitting heavily on it. "This is too much, I keep expecting to wake up any minute now."

"I understand you're… reluctant to believe in this, but-"

"Reluctant?" Dean shook his head in disbelief. "I'm freaking out. That explains so much about you… all the – all the awkwardness, and – and – shit, angels and demons in my fucking life, messing with me and my family, and for what?"

"It wasn't on purpose, but it's my fault, I – Crowley, he wants revenge because I imprisoned him and now – "

"And _we_ have to fucking _pay_ for that?" Dean yelled again. "So you – you're not even human, and you come here and get into my life and – and you put my family in danger because a demon, or whatever, is after you and – why the fuck didn't you say anything?"

"What did you want me to say, Dean?" suddenly Castiel forgot he was supposed to keep his distance and he was leaning over Dean, whose eyes had widened again. "Hello, Dean, I'm Castiel, I'm an Angel of the Lord, let's be friends?"

Dean looked at him, and suddenly, all his anger seemed to disappear. He looked down and murmured, "So you decided to come to Earth and have fun with a human, uh? Congratulations, you had lots of fun, didn't you?"

"Dean, it was never like that, I swear on my Grace that-**"**

"Your what? Grace?" Dean looked at him tiredly, his voice sounding angry but his eyes showing so much hurt that Castiel's heart clenched in his chest.

"The Grace is the angels' equivalent to the human soul."

"So you really are a soulless bastard," Dean snorted sadly. "How could you lie to me like that? I bet you had lots of fun, didn't you? The whole 'human' experience, sex included as a bonus! You made up a story about your life, a last name and everything!"

"I didn't lie, not completely. I really was casted out of my home – Heaven – and my brothers and sisters turned their back on me – except for Gabriel – because I rebelled. My Father is really busy and absent and I worked almost all the time, I rarely left my garrison. And-**"**

"So all the bull shit you said is true, only from another point of view, right? You know what? I don't care, Cas. I don't care. I thought we had something real, and it was all a lie."

"It wasn't!" Castiel said vehemently. "It _isn't_. I love you!"

"No you don't. You really don't." Dean looked down again. "And you know what else? I fell in love with a guy, a human, for Christ's sake, a little awkward, but simple and cool, and you're not him. I don't know you. There's nothing real about our story, because you were lying to me all the time." He gave a small, hysterical laugh, "Fuck, you're not even a guy! You're a – a freaking angel and – this is crazy, man. I need to process this in my head, because I feel like I'm gonna go crazy any minute now."

"I can give you all the time you want to think about this, Dean, but please-**"**

"So give me forever," Dean snapped, getting up, suddenly resolute. He looked at Castiel with cold eyes, and the angel knew, in that moment, that they were over. "Go away, please."

Castiel felt his insides turning cold. "Dean, please, this is not over, I need to tell you everything. Please, let me explain, I'm sure you will understand."

"Save it, Cas. I don't want to hear anything you have to say. And I wouldn't believe you anyway."

"I love you, Dean, please!"

"You don't know what love is. You don't have a soul." Dean closed his eyes tiredly and Castiel had the distinct impression he was fighting back tears. "Just – just go. Please, just go."

Castiel felt that the whole world was crumbling around him. "Is this really what you want?"

Dean nodded. "It is. And please, don't come here again. I – I don't wanna see you anymore."

The angel sighed and turned to leave, finally giving up. Dean had his mind set and nothing Castiel did or said would change that.

"And keep your distance from Sam and Mom too," Dean said, his voice strained. "I don't want – God, I can't even – how is this real? I don't want _demons_ coming after us again. Shit, I can't even think about explaining to them what you are. If you really are who you say you are."

Castiel stood there for a full minute, with his hand on the doorknob, not knowing what to say or do, because this couldn't be the end, it just _couldn't_! He wanted to kneel at Dean's feet and tell him everything, Death's orders be damned. He wanted to explain that Dean's life was still in danger and all this mess was far from over because Crowley was still around. He wanted to say that he would protect Dean with his life, and he would gladly die defending him, if he had to.

But he didn't. He was only a shadow now, a far cry from what he'd once been, and he couldn't protect anyone like this. He was a failure; he was nothing.

Castiel closed the door quietly when he left, and the weight of his defeat was so big that it was almost too hard to keep standing. Slowly, he started to walk back home, knowing nothing was going to be alright, ever again.

**THEN**

**Kansas border, March, 2013**

"Can't you go faster?" Castiel said, annoyed, drying the sweat on his forehead with his sleeve.

"Nope," Gabriel said while he drove his shiny Chevrolet Equinox. "You can't fly long distances. Although I can, and my Grace is full on, if I fly and take you with me they will feel it."

"I know. But this means of transportation takes a lot of time. This car is… slow. Confining."

Gabriel laughed. "I know. It took me some time to get used to this. But girls love it, specially the back seat, if you get my meaning."

Castiel looked at his brother with his usual blank expression.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Forget it, you're still too naïve for this. The thing is, people back in Heaven can't know I'm helping you. We've already talked about this."

Castiel sighed. It seemed he did a lot of sighing these times. "It's hot."

"Yeah, I know, bro, but I told you to leave this stupid trench coat behind. You didn't want to. Shut up and enjoy the view."

"I like the trench coat; you chose it for me."

"If you're already emotionally attached to a piece of clothing, I wonder… your attachment to Dean must be even greater," Gabriel teased.

"I told you, it´s not about that. I worry because he is my charge."

"Yeah, like an anal retentive guy like you would fall just to protect his charge."

"I am not a guy and I am not fallen."

"Semantics, semantics, little bro. It's not as if you can go back upstairs any time soon."

"Why do you insist on tormenting me?"

"Um… because it's funny to see you sulking."

"I'm not sulking, Gabriel." Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose. "But why does it take nine hours to get where Dean is?" he insisted.

"Gosh, Cassie, you are unbelievable! I live in Chicago, Illinois, your prince charming lives in Lawrence, Kansas. I can't zap you there, and I don't think you would enjoy flying on a plane; therefore, we use the car. Alright?"

Castiel huffed an annoyed breath.

Gabriel smiled, amused, and went on. "Besides, it's classy. All the appeal road trips have to humans and all that."

"I'm not Cassie, and I don't understand the appeal of a road trip." Castiel grimaced. "And I don't understand why you're allowed to have an apartment and a car."

"Hey, bro, they sent me to Earth. No one said I couldn't indulge in a little comfort. Besides, I helped you, didn't I? You prayed for me, I came."

"I know," Castiel's annoyance deflated. He didn't know what would have happened to him without Gabriel. All his life h**e** had always been a warrior, but here, in a strange place, without most of his Grace, surrounded by strange things… he felt useless and helpless, like a baby. A big baby in a trench coat.

"You know what I do. I don't even want to think what would happen if the guys up there found out. You know I go to every fallen brother and sister that asks for my help. I help them adapt, I find them a place to live."

"Why do you do it?"

"Hard to explain. Not my style to be magnanimous. But…Heaven wants me here dealing with humans, I'm here and I do my job the best way I can. I just… bend the rules a little, and help the ex-angels that come my way. They're human now, aren't they? Besides, no one said I couldn't have an apartment or a car or a swimming pool or-**"**

"I understand," Castiel cut his speech, "But if you help our fallen brothers against Heaven's orders, isn't it disobedience?"

"It's more a question of… interpretation. As long as no one know about it, I'm good. They didn't say I couldn't do it."

"But-**"**

"Look, Cassie…the angels fall and Heaven simply doesn't care about what happens to them anymore. Did you have any idea of what you'd do if you hadn't prayed for me? I help them because they're my family. I just think it's wiser to do it in secret. You never know who could be watching."

"You're very difficult to understand, Gabriel."

"Shut up. I'm fabulous."

"And how do you plan to help me once we get in Lawrence?"

"I told you, I know someone in Lawrence that will help us. I know a lot of people, but only a few of them know who I am. She's one of them. I know her since she was young, and I'm sure she'll help you."

"How do you know you can trust her?"

"Believe me, I can. She has helped me before, relocating a few of our fallen brothers and sisters. And she can be a little intimidating, but I would trust Missouri with my life."

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, August, 2013**

Castiel didn't see Dean for two days. He went through the motions like an automaton, working, talking to people, eating, sleeping – well, he tried to sleep, at least – but his heart wasn't in anything he did.

Missouri also noticed that Dean hadn't been at the diner lately. She watched Castiel like a guard dog, her expression stern. Strangely, she didn't interrogate him about what had happened, perhaps feeling Castiel's sadness.

"Castiel," she said on Friday night. "Dean asked me to tell you he's waiting for you in the park."

"But I am on my shift now."

"I'll cover for you. You better go, 'cause he didn't sound like he would take no for an answer."

Castiel studied her for a few seconds. "You know what happened."

Missouri sighed. "It's very hard for a psychic _not _to know what's going on, with all the vibrations you guys send all the time! It's tiring, believe me."

"You talked to him." It was not a question.

She nodded slowly. "He asked me if I knew all the time what you are."

"Did you?"

"I suspected," she confirmed. "Gabriel called you '_little bro'_. But you're different from the others I helped. There's still…light inside you. They were…like a blank canvas; like newborns."

"What did you tell him?"

"That it's not my story to tell."

"Thank you, Missouri."

"I'm not doing this for you. Dean is like a son to me, and I can see you really love him. So gimme your apron and go."

There was a place Dean and Castiel liked to go on most date nights, to simply watch the sky, talking for hours and hours until Dean would be too sleepy to talk anymore and Castiel would take him home. They referred to it as '_their place'_: behind a curtain of azaleas, on the farthest side of the park. Dean was sitting on the hood of the Impala, and this time, he wasn't looking at the sky. He had a beer in his hand and his eyes were fixed on nothing, as if he were asleep and had forgotten to close them.

Castiel approached him slowly, cautiously;afraid that Dean would change his mind and tell him to leave. "Hello, Dean."

Dean startled, blinked several times and looked at him. "Cas."

"Missouri said-**"**

"We need to talk."

"Alright." Castiel kept a little distance between them, not daring to approach, much less sitting beside Dean, like he had done many times before. He waited for Dean to start talking, anxious to know what was going on inside the man's mind.

But Dean fixed cold and emotionless eyes on him. "Why don't we start talking about why there is nothing about that fucking night in the papers even after four days?"

Castiel sighed. "My brother Gabriel came to help me and he… uh… he erased everyone's memories and… healed their wounds."

"Your brother Gabriel," Dean repeated.

Castiel nodded.

"As in… 'The' Gabriel?"

"The archangel, yes."

"You're _really _the angel of Thursday. Like Mom said that night at dinner."

"Yes. I believe I already told you that."

Dean closed his eyes. "Shit. I'm not nearly drunk enough for this."

"Dean, I-**"**

"Save it, Cas. First, you answer everything I want to know."

Castiel sighed. "Alright."

After an uncomfortable silence, Dean went on. "Did Missouri know about you?"

"She knew I was… different. But I didn't tell her."

"So, that brother of yours she says is a friend is…"

"Gabriel. They already knew each other. He's been taking some of my fallen brothers and sisters to her; she helps them find a place to live."

"You mean all those stray people Missouri takes to the diner, that disappear after a few weeks are ex-angels?"

"Fallen angels, yes. I believe she thought I was fallen too."

"But you're not."

"Not really, no. I was… banished from Heaven."

Dean looked at the sky. "Heaven." He took a deep breath and let the air out through his mouth. "And why you were banished?"

And here is the part where Castiel would tell him everything, not the half- truths he was giving Dean so far. Death's orders, Castiel's refusal to do it, the Ten Commandments, Crowley wanting to take Dean's soul with him; everything. Only, he couldn't. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because I have orders I can't break, or innocent people will suffer." _You will suffer_, he wanted to add, but didn't.

"That's bullshit," Dean said, taking a long swig of his beer. "You're so full of shit, Cas."

"Dean, let me explain…"

"Shut it. Not now."

Castiel's shoulders sagged. "What else do you want to know?"

Dean deflated. "Why did you lie to me?"

"I told you, I didn't lie. Not about my feelings for you."

Dean's face turned into a mask of anger and his face got so red that Castiel feared he was going to have a stroke. "Cut the crap, Cas!" he got up and walked to where Castiel was, stopping right in front of him. "I'm tired of being lied to, okay? Everything we… I can't believe I let myself be fooled like this."

"I never fooled you. My feelings for you are real."

"Dude, are you even allowed to _like_ a human? To have sex?" Dean shouted at his face. "When you said it was your first time, and I thought '_hey, Dean, this one is special'_, like you were _waiting_ for me, you know?"

Dean started to walk, snorting, tossing the empty bottle aside and grabbing another one from the cooler beside the car. "I can't believe it. I just can't. You're an angel of the freakin' Lord. Angels are real, and I had sex with one of them."

"Dean…"

"I mean, even if you really are an angel – and I didn't say I believe that – why would you want to be with me? Why would you… unless it was for fun, because I really can't find another reason. I've been thinking about it over and over and I just… this is crazy. This shit can't be real, man, it can't."

"You're beautiful, Dean. Your soul is…" Castiel started.

"Stop it. This is creepy as hell. You mean you look at me and see _inside_ me? What the fuck?"

Castiel sighed. "I've never read your thoughts, if that's what you're implying."

"You know, Cas, I was happy with you, you son of a bitch. I was fucking happy. Why did it have to be a lie?"

"It's not a lie!"

"It is! It fucking is and don't you _dare _tell me it's not!" Dean yelled.

"But I never lied to you about this!" Castiel yelled too. "I may have lied about many things! But not that I lo-**"**

"You know," Dean started rambling with a shaky voice, and it was clear he had been drinking for some time. "I just wanted something for myself. Just this once, I wanted something that wasn't related to my family, that wasn't for Sam, or for Mom. Something for _me. _Something that was true and real." Castiel felt a pang at Dean's words. He could see how much he had, albeit unintentionally, hurt the man before him. "Then you came. All nerdy, and awkward, and so damn_ cute_, and…and I thought you could be that something. Guess what? I was wrong. Because there is _nothing_ true about you. Everything we did...Everything we built about us was a fucking lie. It was just you experimenting with humanity."

_No, no, no, it wasn't like that_! Castiel shook his head and raised his hand to touch Dean's arm.

"Don't you touch me!" Dean yelled again. "Don't you fucking touch me ever again! You fucking played with me, Cas, and I can't forgive you for that. I don't have much to give people. But I gave you everything I had. Only, everything I had was _me_. It's not a lot, especially for a – a _being_ like you, who have feakin' wings and lives in Heaven. But I was… I was sincere, goddammit. And I did it all for a lie, for something that wasn't there."

"I did it all for you! Everything, for you! Because I love you and I-**"**

"Don't you _dare_ say that to me, you asshole! I don't ever, ever what to see you!" Dean yelled.

"So why did you ask me to meet you here?" Castiel yelled back.

And Dean was right there, in Castiel's face, and he was so close, and Castiel had missed him _so much, _because he loved this man, this stubborn and imperfect and wonderful man with everything he had.

He grabbed Dean's waist with both hands and pulled, kissing him, because Dean had to understand, he had to. It was bruising and messy, lacking any finesse at all. It was desperate, and frantic, a 'please don't leave me, and please try to understand' kiss.

Dean kissed him back, giving as much as he got. But after a few seconds, he pushed Castiel away, hard.

"You get away from me. You get away, and leave me alone," he raised one finger and practically shoved it at Castiel's face. "And you never, ever, talk to me again." Dean threw the beer can away on a bush. "Fucking shit!" He cursed, stumbling to the Impala, turning the car on and disappearing into the night.

Castiel slowly sank to the ground, hot tears cascading freely down his face, feeling like his chest would end up squeezing the air out of him. It was the first time, in all his long life that he really cried. Everything was over. He would never kiss, hold or touch Dean ever again.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

_Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. _

_Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. _

_For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. _

_When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory._

_Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry. Because of these, the wrath of God is coming._

_Colossians, 3:1-6_

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, April, 2013**

Missouri Moseley was a psychic. Since she was a little girl, she could _feel_ and _see_ things no one else could. At first, she thought she was crazy, and her mom and dad worried that she would need treatment. No one believed her.

Until an Angel of the Lord paid her a visit, and told her there was nothing wrong with her; what she had was a gift, not a curse.

Her life got back on track after that. As she grew older, she learned to use her gift to help people, and it made her feel better knowing she was doing something to help those in need. But helping people didn't pay the rent, so she had a small diner where she spent most of the day. Besides, Missouri could cook like a pro, so she put this other talent of hers to good use as well.

"Missy, my doll!" Gabriel greeted, as he and a very uncomfortable Castiel stepped inside the diner, empty at the ungodly hour of five A.M.

Missouri raised her eyebrows, her face showing irritation that Gabriel didn't mind at all, since it was completely false. "What took you so long?" But she accepted his hug anyway.

"You mean you _knew_ we were coming?" Gabriel joked.

"Why would I be up at five A.M. if not for you? When will you learn to knock on people's doors at a more appropriate time, boy?"

"Urgent matters, Missy." Gabriel said with a grin.

"It's always urgent with you, Gabe," she retorted.

If Castiel's eyes were huge as saucers at the affectionate and familiar way Gabriel and Missouri talked to each other, they widened even more as she turned to him and put he**r** hands on his shoulders.

"Did you bring another of your fallen brothers to me?" she eyed Castiel speculatively.

Gabriel actually blushed. "Err… sort of."

"Now, let me take a close look at you," she said to Castiel, peering at his eyes like she wanted to read everything about him inside them.

Castiel stayed motionless, wide eyes looking at the woman while she studied him. She was intimidating, like Gabriel had said, but even he could feel that her soul was kind. The angel decided that if Missouri was good enough to be Gabriel's friend, she was good enough for him too.

"You're different," Missouri declared. She peered at him a little more and raised his eyes to Gabriel. "This one is different, Gabe, like you but at the same time not. What happened to him?"

"Um… Missy, you'll have to trust me in this one. Castiel needs help. There's this… task he needed to complete, but he didn't want to. Something bad was going to happen to someone and Cassie here refused to do it. Boss got angry, so he was, um… sent to Earth. As punishment."

"I hope you know you're not making any sense, boy." Only Missouri could call an Angel of the Lord a _boy_.

"This, um… task involves a person from Lawrence, and that's why Cassie needs to stay here."

"Anyone I know?"

"We, uh… we would prefer not to tell you." Gabriel winced. "Sorry. It's for this person's safety."

When Gabriel had stopped his car right in front of Missouri's diner, Castiel recognized the place immediately. He had followed Dean there several times, when he was still struggling about what to do with him. He let out a relieved breath. Things were going a lot better than he'd imagined. If he stayed there, he would be able to see Dean every day.

"Alright, boy, but what about this… task?" she asked suspiciously. "If your friend here doesn't want to do it… it's not something bad to the city and the people here, is it? A punishment from God, of some sort?"

Castiel shook his head. "Don't worry. God does not wish to annihilate the city and its inhabitants. But I can't tell you anything about my task. Only that I am no danger to anyone. There is someone I need to protect, that is all."

"Alright, boy, alright. I hope you succeed then." She patted his cheek and turned to Gabriel. "It's been a long time since you brought someone to me."

Gabriel gave her a crooked smile. "I know. I wanted you to have a break. I've relied a lot on you in the past."

"Your sister is well and happy, Gabe. She's a teacher now, and she's engaged to a nice young man."

"I know. I've been following her progress. Not that she knows about it… you know I can't-**"**

"I know, I know… your stupid brothers from upstairs don't know you help them." Missouri grimaced. "But enough of this. I have pastries in the oven and hot chocolate for you."

"Missy, my girl, what I would do without you?" Gabriel beamed at her.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, September, 2013**

A week later Castiel was almost crawling out of his skin. Dean hadn't gone to the diner again, and not seeing Dean was the worst punishment someone could inflict on the angel.

Sam had gone to see him, though. With sadness in his eyes, he had told Castiel that Dean had been drinking a lot. So much, that their mother had hidden the car's keys so Dean didn't end up dead somewhere in a car accident.

Sam also told him, conversationally, that Mary and John had gone out on a date the previous weekend, and that they were testing the waters, seeing where this new relationship of theirs would leave them. John had gotten a construction job, and was currently living in a motel. Sam was excited about his new job. He and Jess would move to Kansas City in January, after their wedding. Things were slowly falling into place.

Except for Dean.

"I frankly don't know what to do about him, Cas," Sam sighed. "I love my brother, and he's practically digging his own grave."

"I wish he would let me help, if he could just understand that I…" Castiel said, mournfully. "But he refuses to talk to me. I've called him and he doesn't answer. I… I miss him, and I don't know how to fix this. I wish I could."

"I still don't know what happened between you guys, but I'll tell you this: don't give up on him, Cas. I know Dean. He cares a lot about you, or he wouldn't be like this. He'll come around."

"I hope you're right, but after everything he said to me the last time we talked… I just don't see how."

So, Castiel got used to the boring, empty days that followed, without Dean to make them brighter. He wasn't going to give up on trying to protect him from breaking the remaining three Commandments, but how could he do it so far away from the man?

Every night, Castiel would look at the list that had now seven broken Commandments. He didn't know what to do. He didn't believe that Dean would ever kill someone. But then again, who would have thought that he would commit theft? And yet he had, because Crowley had made him do it.

Crowley. Just thinking about the demon made the angel's blood almost boil in his veins. After the night he'd shown his wings' shadows, Castiel's Grace had almost disappeared. He was almost empty, drained of heavenly power, like an old and used battery. If not for Gabriel who had told him that his wings were still there, he would have thought he was completely human now.

He wanted to kill Crowley with his bare hands, wanted to see him suffering and begging for mercy. He wouldn't give him the chance to live this time; he wouldn't make the same mistake twice. He called Gabriel again, to ask if he knew of Crowley's whereabouts, but his brother knew nothing and he couldn't stay long. All he knew was that the garrison that was trying to capture the demon hadn't found him yet.

When Monday came, Castiel was driving himself crazy with anxiety. Things were too quiet, and that alone was a signal that something bad was going to happen. Crowley was probably hiding, but Castiel knew he wasn't going to give up; he had proven it already.

Since the diner didn't open on Mondays, the angel decided to clean everything. He needed something to pass the time or he would go mad. Everything was already clean, but Castiel grabbed a large brush and started cleaning the tiled floor.

Then, someone knocked at the backdoor.

Castiel's heart did a somersault, thinking it could be Dean. But it wasn't. Instead, a beautiful blonde stood at the door, staring nervously at him. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"May I come in?" she asked, looking apprehensively around.

"Um… the diner doesn't open on Mondays."

"Castiel, I'm Jess, Sam's fiancée. I need to talk to you."

His interest finally peaked, Castiel stepped aside to let her in. "Oh? Did something happen?"

"I came to say that you should go to Dean's garage tonight."

"What? Why?" Castiel frowned, tilting his head to one side.

Jess smiled. "I missed this habit of yours, tilting your head like that."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don't you recognize me, brother?" she said. "It's me, Jessaliel."

"You're… what?"

"Jessaliel. Brother, have you forgotten me completely?"

Castiel widened his eyes. "Jessaliel? But you're… fallen…!"

She nodded. "I am. It's been five earthly years now. I know in Heaven time passes differently, but I must confess I lost track of time since I fell."

"It's been a hundred and six years, sister." He knew, because, like every angel, he had mourned the falling of another sibling to Earth. "I had never seen your earthly form. You are very beautiful."

"You too, brother. Can… can I give you a hug?" she asked hopefully. "You're probably not used to it, but humans do it a lot."

Castiel nodded. "I know." As she hugged him, he couldn't help thinking of Dean's hugs. He missed his arms, his smell, the way he rested his chin on Castiel's shoulder when they hugged. The way he pressed his nose on the juncture of Castiel's shoulder and neck.

"Listen, Castiel, Gabriel told me everything, he asked me to keep an eye on you. But today he sent me to warn you. Death knows he helped you and he can't come here anymore, at least for some time. Death is furious, and it's possible that now he will start twisting things a bit, bending a rule here and there, so Dean fails and breaks all the Commandments sooner."

"He wants me to fail?" Castiel asked, aghast.

"He is angry that you rebelled, that you didn't obey him immediately. He sent you here to suffer, but instead you and Dean got together, and you were happy."

"Not anymore."

"Brother, the point is that, now that Death knows you've had help, he wants you to fail. He wants you to feel that Dean would die anyway and that **it** was useless to defy him. He wants to use you as an example to all other Angels, so no one even things of defying his orders."

"Gabriel said that?"

Jess nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry."

Just what Castiel needed: the Angel of Death and Crowley on the same side, both of them wanting Dean to fail and die. And all because of him. If he had just collected Dean's soul, like it was required of him, none of this would have happened.

Jess went on. "I heard Dean on the phone this morning. He is meeting a woman at the garage tonight. You must stop him at all costs."

Castiel felt his insides turn cold. "He is meeting a woman? But… but…" then he sat on a nearby chair, defeated. "There is nothing I can do, sister. Dean and I are not together anymore. I have no say over his life."

"Castiel, he is meeting Bella Talbot! The _married_ Bella Talbot!"

Only then he made the connection. "Oh my – but it's Bella who is married! Not Dean! This can't be considered adultery on his part!"

"But she is married and he _knows _it, so that counts as sexual immorality, lust and whatever name you want to give it; he _doesn't_ love her, therefore, it is impurity, sex only for pleasure, not love."

"Death can't do that," Castiel whispered.

"He can, and he will. If you thought he was angry at you before, imagine how he must be fuming now."

"Only because I sought for Gabriel's help?" then a thought occurred to him. "Wait, did he find out Gabriel helps fallen angels?"

"Thankfully, no. Gabriel's secret is still safe."

"At least Gabriel will not be punished because of me." Castiel sat on a chair, relieved. He looked at his sister. Jessaliel had always been a bright and fair angel, her Grace used to shine brightly and pure in Heaven. Now she was a beautiful woman, but he wondered if she missed her Grace. "Was Gabriel the one who brought you to this city?" Castiel asked, momentarily curious.

"Who else would have helped me? I was a fallen angel; I had no one. I prayed for help, for _anyone's _help, and he heard me. He brought me to the diner and I started working here, just like you. Then, one day, Sam walked in and…" She shrugged a little. "The rest, as they say, is history."

"Does Sam know?"

"No. I… didn't have the courage to tell him. He thinks I'm an orphan. We have built a life together; I went to college, I graduated… I can't just tell him who I am. I… I could lose him. I love him too much to risk that."

"Your secret is safe with me, Jessaliel."

"I know," she said, smiling a little. "What is with the Winchester brothers, eh? Two angels completely in love with them…"

"Only, in my case, Dean doesn't want nothing to do with me anymore," Castiel said, dejectedly.

Jess kneeled in front of him. "Listen to me, Castiel: this is not true. Dean loves you and if he's drinking and fooling around with this woman is because he's hurting. It's his way of dealing with all this. Bella has always been trying to get in his pants, and he never cared much about her."

"But he is going to meet her, nevertheless."

"This is to punish you, don't you see? Or to punish himself, because Dean does that a lot. Come on, he loves you, and he's in pain because he misses you."

"What if it's too late?"

"You will never know unless you try. If you love him, _fight_ for him, Castiel. Prove that you are a warrior, brother: don't give up."

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, April, 2013.**

On his first day in Lawrence, by eight A.M. Castiel was already wearing an apron and cleaning tables at the diner. It was a simple work but not unworthy by any means. In God's eyes, all honest work was valuable. Besides, Castiel insisted on starting his adaptation to Earth as soon as possible. Missouri had given him a few lessons on how to clean the tables and chairs under Gabriel's amused supervision. And here he was, behaving like a normal human in a normal job on a Tuesday morning.

Gabriel had bought a few clothes for him, explaining he couldn't wear his black suit and tan trench coat all the time. Missouri had a small room with a bathroom and kitchenette in the back of the diner and she let Castiel stay in it. Gabriel helped him arrange his clothes in the drawers and his new toiletries in the bathroom, explaining patiently how to take a shower and other things a human would do, but giving up when he tried to comb Castiel's stubborn hair.

The other employees, Victor and Gordon, Missouri's nephews, had arrived half an hour ago. They didn't look surprised when they saw Castiel cleaning the diner. They greeted him, eyed his apron and the cloth in his hand, smiled, and one of them asked if he was one of Missouri's stray boys.

Now, while he methodically cleaned the window, he looked at the street, taking in everything, looking as people passed by going to work or taking children to school. He had always wanted to learn more about humans, God's most beloved creation. He knew a lot about them in theory, but he had never stayed on Earth for too long, his orders always taking him away from humans. So he lacked any resemblance of social interaction, but he intended to acquire the knowledge soon.

Suddenly, a black Chevy Impala turned at the corner, and Castiel watched while its owner parked the big car in front of the diner, turned the very loud music off and got out of the car stifling a yawn. He was wearing sunglasses, black boots, jeans and a beige button-down shirt. He looked like the sun, bright, loud and larger than life. Beautiful. Perfect.

Dean Winchester.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, September, 2013.**

Castiel didn't even wait for the night to fall. It was six P.M. and he was already banging at Dean's garage door.

"What?" Dean's face appeared at the door, annoyed. But as soon as he saw the angel, his annoyance turned to anger. "Fuck, Cas, told ya I don't wanna see ya anymore!"

"I need to talk to you," Castiel said, determined, but Dean was already trying to close the door on his face.

"We have nothin' to talk, Cas. Juss… go."

Castiel put his foot between the door and the frame, preventing Dean from closing it. "You're drunk."

Dean gave him a hazy smile. "No shit, Sherlock. I don't see what do ya have to do with it."

Castiel forced his way inside and closed the door behind him. Dean huffed a breath and went to the sofa – the same sofa where they had first kissed – and sat on it heavily, grabbing an almost empty bottle of beer.

"Dean, please… you need to stop drinking like that. Listen, there's so much I need to tell you…maybe, if I explain you my reasons, you-**"**

"Fuck your reasons, Cas! And I don't need your help, or your sermons. Ya're not my dad, and ya're not my guardian angel!" The last words were said almost screaming, and Dean widened his eyes at what he'd just said. "See? Ya're not my guardian angel, get it? Ha ha, I juss mad a joke 'bout you, sonovabitch…" and he started laughing, a little hysterically, like a lunatic.

"Dean, please… I know you're suffering, and I am suffering too. Being apart from you is the worst thing that ever happened to me."

"Fuck this. And fuck ya, Cas! Nobody cares that ya broken! I don't care, so just leave me alone, 'kay? I'm waiting for someone."

"Bella Talbot?" Castiel asked, jealousy clouding his thoughts.

"Ya're stalkin' me now? 'Cause I gotta say, that's just creepy, man."

"Listen, Dean, I need you to stop drinking and…stop this erratic behavior. This is going to end bad if you keep going on like this. You will only end up suffering if you let your soul be polluted like this."

"Cut the angel crap, will ya? It's already bad, Cas. As bad as it can be. And it's all your fault. Yep, it's all on ya, dude. Fuck my polluted soul and fuck you." Dean tried to get up and lost his balance, falling on the sofa again. "Oooops," he giggled, laying his head on the couch's armrest. "Why are the walls moving?"

Castiel kneeled next to him, just like he had done that night, when he first felt Dean's lips on his. "Dean," he delicately held Dean's bottle, taking it away from him. Dean looked at him, blinking slowly, sleepily. He looked just like he had looked that night, drunk and yet so, so beautifully imperfect that Castiel's heart ached a little. He leaned over the man, putting his forehead against his. Dean kept his eyes opened, looking at Castiel, as if hypnotized by him. The angel cupped Dean's face with his hand. "Dean," he said again, because he had missed looking at him like that, so close.

But his voice broke the spell, and Dean blinked several times, his eyes seeming more alert. "Get off me," he snarled.

"Dean…I'm sorry…"

"I said get off me!" Dean yelled, pulling Castiel with all his strength; the angel lost his balance, and fell sitting on the floor.

Dean got up on unsteady feet and towered over Castiel. "Ya had your chance, Cas. Ya ruined everything, so dontcha come here now sayin' ya're sorry, 'cause I don't believe ya. And ya know what? Leave, I don't wanna see your face. Ya hurt me enough."

"Dean, I love you, please, I would never hurt you on purpose."

"But I don't love ya, ya hear me? I never loved ya, and I was just passing my time with ya, just like ya were doin' with me. I hate ya, and I wish ya'd just disappear from my life once an' for all!"

_You shall not lie._

Castiel felt the telltale pain inside his chest that always came when another Commandment was broken. Dean was saying that he didn't love him, and the fact that it was a blatant lie didn't bring the angel any comfort at all. He had failed again, and now Dean stood only two Commandments away from dying.

Dean kicked Castiel's leg, but without any force, because he was really, really drunk "Get outta here, Cas. Get out!"

Then the door opened, and there, wearing as little clothing as possible, was Bella Talbot. "I hope I'm not… interrupting anything?" she said with a false smile.

"Nope," Dean smiled at her. "Cas was just leavin', weren't ya Cas?"

Bella walked up to them and sensuously ran a finger over Castiel's chin. "I don't mind if he stays," she said to Dean lasciviously. "We could have a good time together, don't you think?"

Dean shook his head vehemently. "No way. You outta ya fucking mind? He can't stay."

"Why not? Isn't he your boy toy? But oh, Dean, I can understand that you want me all to yourself…" she laughed again, and to Castiel it sounded like fingernails scratching a blackboard.

The angel got up, trying to keep his dignity intact, but all he wanted was to grab Dean and take him away from Bella's claws. He was still feeling the pain of the broken eighth Commandment, but he realized that, more than the very real possibility that Dean was going to break another one, _the_ _ninth one_, what really bothered Castiel was that Bella was going to see Dean naked, she was going to touch his skin and feel his lips on her own, just like Castiel had. And if that jealousy didn't make him as human as any other, he didn't know what else could.

"Cas… go away. Ya're spoilin' my fun." Dean said, leaning on the counter beside him for support.

"Dean, please… don't do this," Castiel begged once more. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't.

"Ya don't get to tell me what to do, ya hear me? " Dean grabbed Bella by the hair and kissed her on the mouth, strongly and furiously, and when he let her go, his mouth was smeared with her red lipstick.

"Nobody wants ya here. Go away. Please, do me a favor and get outta my life forever," Dean said, fixing a cold green gaze on Castiel.

Castiel didn't say a word, because he didn't trust himself to speak. He turned his back and walked out of the garage, his heavy steps echoing on the empty street. He walked aimlessly, not really seeing where he was going, his vision blurred by the tears that insisted to fall.

He knew what was coming next, but when twenty minutes later the familiar pain in his chest begun, he knew Dean had had sex with Bella, and he knew Dean was doomed.

_You shall not commit adultery._

Only one Commandment separated the man Castiel loved from his death, but he was sure that Crowley, or even the Angel of Death himself, would take care of everything and make sure the tenth Commandment would be broken soon.

There was no going back now.

Castiel bowed, sitting on the park bench with his arms around his own body. Shivers shook him, more from grief than from cold, until he felt spent, tired like never before, _defeated_. Hopeless. He was ashamed of his own inutility. He didn't deserve to be called an angel.

He was a failure, a poor excuse for **a** servant of the Lord. A wild thought crossed his mind: he should die and leave Dean alone, and maybe, when Crowley dragged Dean's soul to Hell, Castiel could sneak in that filthy place and stay close to Dean, even if he had to spend eternity being tortured alongside him. At least he would be with Dean forever.

Slowly, he got up and decided to go back to the diner, get his things and leave Lawrence. There was no place for him there. Everything that was happening was because of him. Crowley wanted his revenge because Castiel had caught him in the past. Death wanted to punish Castiel because the angel had questioned Death's authority. And both were using Dean to punish Castiel, because of his love for the human.

If he'd known that just by being close to Dean, Castiel would doom him like this, he would have never come to this city. Everything that happened to Dean was Castiel's fault, and maybe if he just went away, Dean would not break the tenth Commandment at all. Maybe with Castiel gone, Dean would live until he was ninety, and he would die peacefully, surrounded by his family.

He gathered his belongings, not that he had too much and, since he didn't have a suitcase, he put what he had in a duffel bag he found in the deposit. He wrote Missouri a note thanking her for welcoming him and saying that he was sorry for everything. He also asked her to not tell Dean of his departure. Actually, he _begged_ her, and he hoped that she could do this for him, because he didn't want to cause any trouble to anyone; not anymore.

He decided to wait until late at night to leave, because he didn't want to risk meeting anyone. He didn't want one of Dean's friends to see him and then tell the man they'd seen Castiel leaving. It would be better if Dean realized Castiel had left town only when the angel was far away.

Gabriel could find him whenever he wanted to; if and when he could look for Castiel again without attracting Death's attention. Jessaliel didn't need him; she was happy with Sam.

He had no idea where he was going, but at midnight, he turned all of the diner's lights out, locked the door and took the key with him. He could send it by mail later.

He walked to the main street carrying his duffel bag and sat at the bus stop. There were no buses at that hour, and he stayed there for some time, trying to put his thought**s** in order and decide where he would go next. He stared at a crack in the asphalt without really seeing it, lost in his thoughts.

A noise behind him made his head jerk up. It was like a whimpering, it sounded like a child, and it was coming from a pile of discarded cardboard boxes in front of a store. He got up cautiously, squinting to see in the dim light.

The cardboard boxes suddenly moved, but what emerged from them wasn't a child at all.

"Hello, Castiel," said Crowley. "Long time no see."

Castiel let go of the duffel, but before he could take out his blade, two demons grabbed him from behind, and the last thing he saw before one of them hit his head with a brick, was Crowley's red eyes and his triumphant smile.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

_Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. _

_Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. _

_For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm._

_Ephesians, 6:10-13_

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, September, the 13****th****, 2013**

Dean woke up with the mother of all hangovers. Again. He had spent the night drinking and playing poker with Benny Lafitte. He didn't see Benny much, because the guy was all kinds of screwed up and probably never worked, spending most of his nights – and days – drunk as a skunk.

But getting drunk was Dean's new modus operandi these days.

He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. The unwelcome sun light filtered through the gauze curtains, and Dean hid his head under the covers. If he could sleep for a few more minutes…

Unfortunately, Sam started banging on his bedroom door, and the more Dean tried to ignore the noise, the more insistent his brother became. Dean sat up, and fought the pounding in his head and the rebellion inside his stomach. "I'm coming, don't twist your panties!"

He took a few breaths, waiting for the dizziness to stop, and got up slowly, walking to the door with one hand half-covering his eyes. Fuck, Benny had assured him that the whiskey wasn't cheap, but judging from the present hangover, he'd probably made it in his bathtub.

"What?" he said, opening the door and frowning at his brother with only one eye open. "Do you know what time's it, Bitch?"

Sam gave him bitchface #32. "Actually, I do. It's almost nine, Jerk."

Wow. He was really late for work. "Fuck it. Today is Friday and I'm the boss."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You look like shit."

"That's 'cause I feel like shit, Sammy."

"Dean…" Sam sighed, "When will you stop acting like a child?"

"When I fucking want to, 'kay?"

Sam raised his hands in a surrender gesture. "Alright. Listen, um… may I come in?"

Dean stepped aside and made a wide gesture with his arm. "Mi casa, su casa."

Sam stepped inside and sat unceremoniously on Dean's bed. "We need to talk."

"If this will lead to a chick flick moment, I just woke up, and I'm not even conscious enough for this."

"No chick flicks," Sam snorted. "I… um… I wanted to know if you have been at the diner lately."

Dean scowled. "You know I haven't."

"And… you haven't talked to Missouri, either?"

"Nope. Look, Sammy, if this is going to be about Cas, I've already told you, I'm not in the mood to talk about – "

"He's gone, Dean."

Dean stopped speaking, his mouth hanging open. "What?"

"He's gone. Missouri told me an hour ago. Cas is gone since Monday night."

Monday. The last time Dean had seen Cas; also the time he'd told him to get out of his life forever. Apparently, Cas had followed his instructions to the letter.

"Fuck." Dean said, pinching the bridge of his nose, his headache getting even worse. "He just… went away? No goodbyes, not even to Missouri?"

"He wrote her a note, where he specifically asked her not to tell you he was gone."

A flare of anger burned inside Den's heart. "Well," he said, trying for nonchalance but completely failing, "Good for him. He can take care of himself."

"Missouri seemed… worried. Said she contacted his brother, but he hadn't heard of Cas, and he got pretty upset with the news."

In that moment, Dean wanted to tell Sam everything. He wanted, more than anything, to tell his brother that Cas' brother was a freaking Angel, and he could probably find Cas in the blink of an eye. But Sam wouldn't believe him, would he? Because all this shit was crazy, surreal and absurd, and fuck, just thinking about it made Dean's head spin and hurt like hell.

Besides, if Dean said anything about angels and demons, Sam would think he was still drunk.

"Listen, Sammy, I really don't wanna talk about Cas anymore. We're over, so I have nothing to do with whatever the fuck he decides to do with his life."

Sam gave a heavy sigh. "Okay, then," he said, getting up. "I just… thought you should know."

"Thanks a lot, CNN."

Sam shook his head, dismayed. "I'm going to take Jess out. Measurements for her wedding dress."

Dean nodded absently, not really paying attention. There was a buzzing in his head, a noise so loud that it brought tears to his eyes. He barely saw when Sam left his bedroom, because he ran to the bathroom and kneeled on the floor, throwing everything in his stomach in the toilet, until he heaved and nothing else came out.

"Fuck, Cas, you really did what I asked, didn't you? You really went away and I'm never gonna see you again. Stupid son of a bitch."

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, September the 15****th****, 2013**

Castiel woke up feeling dizzy again. He had no idea if it was day or night, or even which day it was. When you're being tortured, you tend to lose track of time, because you measure it between one torture session and the next, so time seems to pass slower than it really does.

Crowley never got his hands dirty on him, leaving the pleasure of torturing the angel to his lackeys, who actually fought to see who would be the next to brand Castiel's skin with his own angel blade.

He felt out of reality; the angel blade was the only weapon that could kill an angel. Being tortured with it made the wounds impossible to heal. Not that his Grace would heal him anyway. He could feel it inside him, so weak that he couldn't even try to break free.

The pain Castiel felt when the demons carved symbols on his chest was so great that he had the impression that he would collapse like a house of cards, leaving a pile of flesh and bones, that would turn into ashes, and the blowing wind would spread his remains everywhere, so no one would ever know that that dirt used to be an Angel of the Lord.

Castiel was tied to a metal chair. Iron shackles kept his hands back, and the sigils drawn on them made it impossible for him to break free. A collar with inscriptions as old as the world, in his neck, kept what was left of his Grace trapped deep inside him, so he could not use it, even if it miraculously returned. He was trapped and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Morning!" Crowley said brightly, and the angel fought to open his eyes and look at his enemy.

During the torture sessions, while Crowley avidly watched, his face alive with expectation, Castiel had never made a single sound. No whimper, no moaning, not even a heavy breath had left his lips as his flesh was being torn apart. He knew that his behavior frustrated Crowley immensely, and there was a strange pleasure in knowing he was going to die without giving his enemy the victory of seeing him beg.

Also, he had always tried to be awake when Crowley came to see him. "Hello, demon," he spat the word like venom.

"You think that offends me?" Crowley laughed. "I'm proud to be what I am. Care to know why? Because I'm a survivor; a fighter, even. I never settled for the pathetic life I had as a human; I always wanted big things, money, power… I sold my soul, and then I got everything I wanted. And on top of that, I'm practically… eternal."

"Not if I kill you."

"Oh, interesting, interesting… Say, how do you plan to do that? Because from where I'm standing, you look in a bit of a… disadvantage."

"Even if I die, there is still a garrison of angels looking for you!"

"And you think I'm worried? Frankly, Castiel, I thought you knew me by now. They're no match for me. If they could really find me, they already would have. Their attempts are pathetic, even."

Castiel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fighting another wave of nausea, even if his broken ribs protested.

"Anyway, let's get to the good part," Crowley rubbed his hands together. "Today your torment may come to an end."

"Don't say you re going to let me go," Castiel growled. "Or are you finally going to kill me?"

"Nope. None of the above. I'm bringing a new buddy to play with us."

For a moment, Castiel thought that Crowley had caught Gabriel. But then his heart sank when he realized that, if Crowley's intention was to break him, there was only one person he could bring to this torment.

"If you even touch a hair of his head… "

"You'll what? Frankly, I don't think you're in the position to make threats here."

"if your thinking about imprisoning Dean – "

"Don't have to. He will come with his own legs."

"Dean will never come. He doesn't want to see me."

"Oh, I don't think so. Dean-o brags about being a tough guy, but he has a soft heart, which is convenient, considering he will soon try to play knight-in-a-shining-armor to rescue you. You don't look like a damsel in distress, but it'll do."

"He knows I can take care of myself. He _won't_ come."

"Yes, he will. You know why? Because I sent your trench coat to him yesterday, and if he doesn't come, next time maybe I'll send a piece of you as a souvenir. Maybe an eye?" Crowley smiled. "Dean- o is going to have a big surprise today when he arrives here."

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, September 14****th****, 2013**

Dean was alone at home. Mom had gone on a – another – date with Dad, and Dean, surprisingly, was okay with that. Kinda. Mom was an adult, and since Dean's love life had turned out to be a huge and messed fucked up supernatural thing, he was in no position to give her any advice. He only hoped she didn't break her heart again.

He was watching TV, but not even Doctor Sexy could distract him. Even if it was Friday night, he wasn't in the mood to go out. He was tired, with a strange, hollow place in his chest with Castiel's name on it. The truth was that he missed the guy/angel/whatever the fuck he was. He missed him like crazy.

He had tried to take him out of his mind – and heart – since that Monday night. He didn't go to the diner, he barely went to work, and no one was allowed to mention Cas to him. But he couldn't have imagined that he would never see him again. He thought that maybe they would pass each other on the street sooner or later, and Dean would turn his head to look at Cas, just a little, and maybe smile, maybe say hi… when all the heartache had stopped poking his chest from the inside, maybe they could find their friendship again.

He had just wanted to make Cas suffer a little – or maybe a lot – for leading him on.

And now he was gone; like Dean had asked him to. He had left, and Missouri had no idea where to. Apparently, neither his brother knew his whereabouts. He imagined Cas sulking somewhere, but he really had no idea what Angels of the freaking Lord did when they got sad.

"Hey, Dean!" Sam arrived with Jess in tow. They looked happy, and Dean felt a pang of envy that he hurried to suffocate.

Jess was holding a box that she put in Dean's lap. "Found this on the front porch. It has your name on it."

The paper was bright red, with a beautiful, silky blue ribbon on top. "Must be from one of my admirers."

"Jess, baby, you mind if I take a quick shower?" Sam asked, putting all the bags he was holding on the floor next to the TV.

"Of course no, hun. You've already done your good deed today. I know those bags are heavy."

"Dude, did you leave something at the store for the other customers?" Dean joked half heartedly.

Sam just gave him bitchface #41, kissed Jess lightly on the lips and went upstairs whistling an old lullaby. What a girl.

Jess sat beside Dean and grabbed the package on his lap. She shook it a little, but the package made no noise. "Open up, Dean! I need new material to tease you!"

"Well, if you give me the damn box, maybe I can!"

She rolled her eyes, amused, and put the box back on his lap. Dean started tearing at the paper because he had no patience when it came to open presents. The box was black, and there was a big red heart on its lid.

But what Dean found inside turned his guts into ice. With trembling hands, he took Cas' trench coat, torn in several places. And there was blood everywhere. _Everywhere._

"Oh my God," he whispered, terror invading him so fast that he felt like there was no more air in the room. He couldn't breathe, he was suffocating in the panic and the possibility that Cas could be dead.

Jess had her eyes fixed on the trench coat too, and she seemed to be hypnotized by it. "Castiel… this is Castiel's?" Her voice sounded too acute, scared and small.

Dean could only nod, unable to do anything else but stare at Cas' blood. "I had no idea an angel's blood was red," he said, almost in a trance. Then he saw a paper attached to one of the sleeves.

Jess tore the note from his hands, but before Dean could protest, she started to read aloud. "_25913 Chieftain Road Single fam. Lawrence, KS 66044. Come tomorrow night. If__you don't, next time I'll send one of his beautiful blue eyes. Come alone, or I'll give you both his eyes in a pretty box. C."_

"Oh my God," Dean whispered again, voice trembling at the mere thought of Cas in the hands of the red-eyes demon that plagued Dean's nightmares since that night at the police station.

"Dean…" Jess looked at him apprehensive, as if fearing that he would leave running to save Cas any minute now.

In that moment, Dean realized two very important things. One: angel or not, Cas could _die_. He could be _already_ dead. And Dean would never be able to live with himself if he turned his back on him now. Two: he _loved _Cas. He could be a fucking angel, he could be a ghost, a vampire, a werewolf, anything in the world, but Dean loved him. And he wanted him back, even if they would probably start fighting again very soon.

He hadn't forgiven Cas. Yet. In fact, he didn't know if he would ever completely forgive him. But he needed him around, because he loved the stupid son of a bitch – nothing personal, God, please don't take that into account – and he wanted to see him again.

Cas' lie and all the freaking shit about supernatural beings – and Cas was one of them, oh God – seemed so stupid and _small_, when all Dean could think was: he loved Cas. He loved him. He was probably the love of Dean's fucking life. And if dean didn't go to him, someone was going to _kill_ him.

He didn't know why this was happening, what he, a mere human, had to do with anything, what was his role in the great scheme of things. But he didn't care.

"I need to go," Dean said absently, his fingers caressing a piece of the trench coat not stained with blood. "I need to, because if I don't go, he will – "

"The demon will kill you," Jess said, mouth hanging open. "If you go, you will be walking to your death, Dean."

"Jess?" Alright, what was happening here? Jess was supposed to be completely confused by everything and yet she was staring at Cas' blood as if she fucking _knew what was going on_. And she had said _demon_, right? Dean was pretty sure he hadn't said anything about a demon. What the fuck?

"Jess, um… why are you not freaking out?" Dean asked slowly, although his heart was pounding in his chest. He almost feared her answer, because until recently, he thought that supernatural stuff was for books and movies, that angels and demons were things the church had created to keep people in line. But they were real, and if he, who hadn't even started to process all that in his head yet, was freaking out… why wasn't Jess doing the same at all that blood and – she'd said _demon_, hadn't she?

Her cheeks became very red and she held her breath for a few seconds, looking at him with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. Finally, she seemed to make a decision. "I need to show you something. Stay here." Then she opened the front door and left.

Dean watched, through the living room's window, with his mouth hanging open. He wanted to go and get Cas, even though it was probably a big mistake, and Jess was making him _stay_? What the fuck? Cas was in danger! But he kept watching anyway, as she opened her car's trunk and picked up a package, an object wrapped in a dirty cloth.

She came back without saying a single word, and put the bundle on the sofa. "Open it, please."

With trembling hands, Dean did. "I know what this is," he said in awe, holding the angel blade in his hands. He had seen Cas using it when he fought the demons. "How – how come you have Cas' knife?"

"It's not his," she said, with a heavy, sad sigh. "It's mine."

Dean's head jerked up, and as he looked at her, he felt cold running down his spine.

"I'm a fallen angel, Dean."

Dean's reaction surprised even him. He hid his face in his hands and started to laugh. It was a humorless, creepy laugh, but he couldn't help it. "This can't be happening."

"I'm not like Castiel," she went on. "I fell, and I lost all my Grace. He's still an angel, but I'm completely human, and if I didn't tell anyone, it was because… I wanted to leave it in the past and bury it. I feared not being accepted. I'm sorry."

"So Sam doesn't know," Dean said, the cold in his body now appearing in his voice.

Jess just shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

"Do me a favor, Jess. Tell him today. Because if I come back from this shit and you have not told him yet, I will."

"I promise," Jess whispered, pressing her lips.

There were lots of things Dean could have done. He could have prayed to one of Cas' brothers. He could have started to run and throw himself over the first cliff he found. He could have started drinking until he got into an alcoholic coma. But none of these things would give him the chance to see Cas again. None of these would bring Cas back to him, safe, alive.

Dean doubted that, even if he went, he wouldn't have much of a chance, but he had to at least _try_, because the idea of Cas dying because he had refused to help him was worse than anything he could imagine.

He didn't have much choice. So, he made up his mind.

"Okay," he said. "I have no time to freak out about you now. But if you're telling me the truth – "

"I am!" Jess hurried to say.

"Since you are – or were – an freaking angel, I'm sure you know one or two things about this demon. Now tell me why you're giving me this blade and what do I do now."

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, September 15****th****, 2013**

Castiel was dreaming. The last torture session had left him drained, so as soon as he was left alone, he slept. Or passed out, it didn't matter anymore, because he was dreaming of Dean.

They were on his kitchen, and Castiel had just baked him an apple pie. Dean was smiling, happy, eating the pie like there was no tomorrow. He looked like a glutton, with his mouth full of food, but the smile he was giving Castiel was so affectionate and sincere, that there wasn't anything more beautiful.

"I love everything about you, Cas, specially your apple pie," Dean said. "Cas? Cas! Cas, wake up!"

Someone was slapping his face lightly. He frowned, wishing the demons would let him in peace. He didn't want the dream to end. But they didn't give up, so Castiel decided to open his eyes. It was difficult, because even that small thing seemed to take too much effort. Slowly, his eyelids heavy, Castiel blinked a few times, until the world came into focus again.

Dean was crouched in front of him, with one hand on his cheek and the other holding an angel blade.

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but choked on his words, his throat dry and aching. "Dean…" he finally managed, "Leave, this… is a t – trap."

"Shhh, Don't speak, Cas. Save your strength," Dean whispered. "I gotta get you out of here."

"No… time. Go, p – please." Castiel closed his eyes again, welcoming the approaching darkness. He was so tired…

"Hey, hey, stay with me, don't sleep, okay?" Dean slapped his face lightly again. "Come on," he said, "Stay still. Gotta cut these things off you."

Dean easily cut the chain and the shackles with the angel blade, along with the ropes that tied him to the chair. Without the ropes holding him in place, Castiel fell forward, leaning against Dean, who put his arms around him, mindful of the cuts and bruises. "Oh, Cas… what have they done to you?"

"You shouldn't have c – come."

"Yes I should."

Cas looked so weak that he couldn't keep his eyes open. "I'm s – sorry I lied t – to you. I wanted to – to spare you this. A – and all I did was… bring you here, right to him." He spoke slowly, and so low that Dean could barely hear what he was saying.

Dean cupped Castiel's face with one hand. "No, Cas, listen, I _wanted _to come, you hear me? Couldn't leave you here. And I'm sorry too, Cas. I know everything now. I was so fucking stupid…I should have given you a chance to explain, but… it's a lot to take in, right? But I'm taking you home and when you're healed we'll have a long talk about this" Dean held the angel blade firmly, preparing to cut Castiel's restraining collar.

"Dean…" Castiel tried to raise his hand to touch Dean's face, but he had no strength left. "I… I – "

"Shhh, don't talk," Dean said, and if his voice was strained with emotion, there was no one around to see it. "I know, Cas. Me too."

"Ain't this touching?" Crowley said, appearing out of thin air.

"Crowley." Dean said, holding Castiel more firmly against him.

"You know my name…! Bravo, I see you did your homework. Tell me, Dean-o, what are you willing to sacrifice to get your little tree topper here free?"

"Anything," Dean answered without hesitation.

"Dean…" Castiel said, pleading, "No."

"Shhh, it's gonna be okay, Cas."

"Well, Romeo, I suggest you get ready to fight. Because I can see you're really ready for anything. How about we decide the fate of your angel here, just you and me?"

"Just you and me?" Dean asked. "Aren't you going to call your slaves to fight for you?"

Crowley shook his head no. "Just you and me. You have my word. Scout's honor."

"You have no honor, you son of a bitch."

"Oops. You're right. Um…then, why don't we make a deal? You leave the angel there and you and me fight for him. The winner takes the prize home, what do you say?"

Dean put Castiel delicately on the floor and stood up. "Alright."


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

_Seek the Lord while he may be found; call on him while he is near._

_Let the wicked forsake their ways and the unrighteous their thoughts._

_Let them turn to the Lord, and he will have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will freely pardon._

"_For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the Lord._

"_As the heavens are higher than the earth,__so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts._

_As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it__without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,_

_so is my word that goes out from my mouth:_

_It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it._

_Isaiah, 55:6-11_

**THEN**

**Lawrence, Kansas, September 14****th****, 2013**

"It's necessary a huge amount of strength to restrain an angel, even one as weak as Castiel is now, and since no demon has such strength, they will use sigils to restrain him," Jess said.

Dean nodded, trying to process as fast as he could everything she was saying.

Jess went on, determined. "If there is anything like shackles or chains, the blade will easily cut it. You _can't _take Castiel out of there without freeing him from the sigils first, or the imbalance between his human body and his heavenly one will destroy him."

Dean gulped, and nodded again. It was too much, too much for him to do. If he were fighting against humans, he could do well; he'd had his fair share of fights in life and he almost always landed on top. But these were _demons_, the kind that came from fucking _Hell_, and he knew it would be too much for him.

He knew his chances were slim to none.

But every time he looked at the bloodied trench coat, something primal stirred inside him. This was Cas' blood. If there were a chance, even the smallest one, that Dean could save him, he would take it.

"Dean, try to be fast. If you manage to free Castiel from the sigils, he will have access to his Grace and even the small amount of Grace is a lot. He will be able to help you. Having the upper hand, you'll have a chance to win. "

"What if I don't?"

"Then you'll be in serious trouble."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I wish I could go with you. I'm not an angel anymore, but I still can fight. I could help you."

"No way. You read the note; if I don't come alone, he will hurt Cas even more."

Jess bit her lip. "I'll pray for you. And I'll pray for Gabriel too, because if he can help you and Castiel, you'll be fine. The demon is no match for him."

Dean looked at her, brow furrowed. "Jess? Can I ask you a stupid question?"

"Of course."

"If angels and demons exist… that means God and the devil exist too?"

"I can assure you that Lucifer is very real. He was really cast out and sent to Hell, like your Bible says. As for our Father… yes, God is real, Dean. He is as real as you and me, although he has not used his physical form in a long time, and only few of us really met him."

"Did you?"

"Did I meet him?" she smiled sadly. "No."

"So how can you be sure he is real?"

"When I was an angel I could hear his voice in my head and I could feel his love in my heart."

"So why did you fall?"

"Oh, Dean… I'm not sure you'll understand. Being an angel is… tiring, although you never get really tired. It's endless obedience and servitude. It's not having free will. It's living forever, and forever is a very long time, Dean. An angel has no rest, no respite, no attachment to anything but God and Heaven. An angel can't love. I wanted to… feel."

"I think I get it," Dean gave her a small nod. "Do you…" he took a deep breath. "Do you think Cas is alive?"

Jess' lips formed a thin line. "I don't know. I hope so."

"God, Jess, I – "

"Dean? Jess?" Sam was looking at them from the stairs. "What's going on?"

"Shit." Dean got up and walked towards his brother, while all Jess did was stare at her fiancée with a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

Dean stopped in front of Sam, blocking his view of the living room, where Castiel's bloodied coat was in full view. "Sam, there's something Jess needs to tell you."

"You're not breaking up with me, are you, baby?" Sam joked, but seeing Jess' expression, he suddenly turned serious. "Crap, what happened, Jess?"

"Sam… can you wait for me upstairs?" she looked at him, her eyes pleading and brimming with tears.

Sam took a step in her direction. "Jess, you're scaring me."

"Sam, please!" she begged. "I'm fine, we're fine, nothing bad happened to me. But before we talk, there's something I need to tell Dean. Please, wait for me upstairs, honey. Please."

"There's more?" Dean looked at her astonished.

Jess only nodded in response.

Sam started again. "Jess, I – "

"Sam, please!" she said, distressed. "Let me talk to him, I'll be upstairs as soon as I finish here."

"Uh…" Sam looked at Dean, but his brother shook his head.

"Go, Sammy," Dean said softly. "This is about Cas."

Sam went up the stairs slowly, still looking at Jess and Dean with his brow furred.

When they heard the door closing, Jess turned to Dean, purposefully wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "Dean, there's something else you need to know. Castiel was forbidden to tell you the truth, but I'm not an angel anymore. And I think you should know what exactly you're getting yourself into."

"Do we have time for this?" Dean asked, impatient. "We're talking about Cas' possible impending death here."

"Not only his," she said, putting a hand on his arm. "We're talking about your death too. And what will happen if you kill anyone."

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, September 15****th****, 2013**

**DEAN**

Dean parked the car near the warehouse and checked the address again. There weren't many buildings in this place, so he couldn't be wrong. Or so he hoped.

The entrance was closed, but there was a side door, and it was half-open. There seemed to be no one around, and it was just like every cliché action movie Dean had watched. It looked so much like a trap that Dean would have laughed if he weren't so scared.

Inside, the silence greeted him. The warehouse was one large room with four walls. The windows, very high and painted black, didn't let the sun in. But here and there, the dark windows had broken pieces, and the sunlight insisted on leaving the place not so dark. It was eerie, but Dean could see. He took the blade from his belt and turned to look around.

And there, tied to a chair, in the middle the warehouse, was Castiel.

"Cas!" he grunted, seeing the state Cas was in. Bloodied, bruised and unconscious. His bare chest was covered in cuts and his breath was shallow. Dean's heart jumped in his chest, aching with a force he wasn't expecting. God, but he really loved this guy. Angel. Whatever.

Cas frowned, and moaned, but didn't wake up.

He ran to the angel, crouching in front of him. Seeing Cas like that made Dean think that he had already forgiven him. Hell, he would forgive _anything_ if Cas opened his beautiful blue eyes again. "Cas, hey, wake up!" When Cas didn't move, Dean slapped his face lightly. "Hey, hey, Cas, come on, open your eyes."

Dean heard a noise and looked around, but he couldn't see anyone. The place gave him the creeps, and the sooner they got out of there, the better. He doubted it would be easy; he knew something was going to happen, and soon. And no one would come to help them, not even the archangel Cas and Jess seemed to trust so much. But if he could release Cas from the restraining sigils, maybe they would have a chance.

"Cas?" he tried again. "Cas! Cas, wake up!"

Finally, Cas opened his eyes. "Dean… " he said weakly, and his voice was so low that Dean almost didn't hear him.

He remembered Jess' voice telling him what to do. Cas was heavily bounded. The collar in his neck angered Dean in a way he hadn't anticipated. They were treating him like a slave.

He cut the shackles and the ropes without any problems, and held Cas in his arms, careful not to hurt him even more, when the angel fell in his arms. "Oh, Cas… what have they done to you?"

Then Crowley was there, and it didn't even cross Dean's mind to say no when the demon challenged him to a fight, the prize being Castiel. Before he realized what he was doing, he had already put Cas carefully on the floor and stood up, facing Crowley, the angel blade firm in his hand.

"Nice weapon," Crowley commented, looking at Dean. "But hey, I have one too."

Dean eyed the demon warily, seeing blood on the blade he was holding. It was Cas' angel blade, with Cas' own blood in it. His stomach rebelled at the sight but he fought it. "Come on, if it's me you want, so I'm here."

"You know," Crowley said, conversationally, "I didn't have any intention of hurting you. You're not even worth my time. But sweet cakes here fell in love with you, so I thought it would be a good idea to make him beg for your life. I'm curious to see what sacrifices he is capable of doing for you."

Dean took a few steps back and adopted a fighting stance; slightly bent legs, senses alert, knife with the blade up. "I know everything you did, your son of a bitch, possessing Dad and Sam and fucking with my head, whispering in my ear, making me do things I didn't want to."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, don't be dramatic, Dean-o! _Of course_ you wanted to steal that file, _of course_ you wanted to fuck that slut. If felt good, didn't it?"

"It was all your doing, fucker!"

"Dean, Dean, Dean…" Crowley made a falsely sorry face. "It was all you, my dear. I may have… influenced you a little. But you were the one who broke God's laws, _you_ committed those sins, because deep down? Your soul is tainted. Soiled. Dark. And that's why you belong with me in Hell."

Dean gulped. He wanted so much to kill Crowley that his vision was almost red with anger. But if he did, he would die, and if he died, no one would save Cas. He had to find a way to free Cas from the collar still on his neck, so Cas would have a part of his mojo back and would be able to heal and fight.

They studied each other's movements for a while. Then Crowley lunged, and Dean jumped aside, escaping the blow. It happened again a couple of times more, Crowley always attacking, and Dean just diverting. Until the last time the demon lunged, Dean gave him a counter-blow, hitting with the knife the demon's hand, opening a small but deep wound that started to bleed.

Crowley stopped and grimaced. "Ouch." Then, he made a movement with his hand and Dean went flying to the other side of the room, hitting his back with full force into the wall. "Sorry, I got bored, don't want to play anymore," he said.

Dean felt all the air leaving him, and shook his head to clear it, blinking several times while dark spots danced in front of his eyes.

Crowley advanced on him, stopping mere inches from the man. "Where is your courage now, uh? Without your angel boyfriend to protect you, you are no match for me. And look at how pitiful he is…"

Crowley raised his hand, Cas' blade in it, and stopped before he could hurt Dean. "Bugger this, I forgot this thing can't hurt you. You're only a pathetic human." He threw the angel blade aside, frowning. "My bad."

Dean gave a relieved breath, but then Crowley was reaching behind himself, producing another blade out of thin air. Actually, it looked more like a big kitchen knife, and Dean was very much sure this one could hurt him.

"Shit." That was it, Crowley would kill him and then kill Cas. There was no chance for them, Cas still had the fucking collar on and Crowley's knife was mere centimeters from Dean's jugular.

But the demon let out a grunt of pain and fell on his knees, stunned. Dean looked around wildly and couldn't believe his eyes: Jess, Sam and Dad were at the door, and apparently she could throw knives like a pro, because there was one in Crowley's leg.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, and Dean started running in their direction, meeting them right in the middle of the warehouse, where Cas was still on the floor.

"Sammy?" he looked at his giant brother in disbelief. Seeing Jess and Dad there was a good surprise, but Sam too?

"What can I say?" Sam laughed nervously, eyes wild and huge in his face, like he thought he was dreaming. He was probably freaking out now, but Dean was more than grateful he had decided to leave all the nervous breakdown for later and decided to come and help. "My fiancée is a BAMF. I didn't want to be left behind." Sam kneeled next to Cas and pressed his fingers against Cas' pulse. "He's alive," he said.

Thank God. In spite of the situation, Dean smiled at them. "Thanks, guys, but please, don't get hurt," he said tightly, looking at John and giving him a curt nod. "Dad."

"Son," John Winchester said, nodding too. "Jess carved anti-demon sigils in your mother's knives. She's a very smart girl."

The smart girl in question put a plastic bottle in Dean's hand. "Holy water," she said. "Sprinkle on him." Then she looked at Dean apologetically. "Gabriel is not answering. Sam insisted that he could come with me and John. I couldn't say no."

Dean barely had time to answer, because Crowley was already up, holding the knife with his blood on it and, walking with a limp, he advanced on them. In the way, he snapped his fingers and various demons appeared scattered around the place.

The four humans formed a circle around Cas, their backs to the angel, each one facing a wall. As the demons advanced, Crowley stopped, frowning, touching his injured leg with an annoyed expression.

"It's now or never, guys," Dean said, his eyes fixed on the two demons approaching them.

"Oh, God," Sam whispered, his voice trembling. "This is really happening. Here they come."

The demons advanced from all sides, and the humans started to fight them with everything they had. It was more a question of luck than ability, because even though the black-eyed demons were clearly less powerful and less skilled then Crowley, they were still _demons_.

For a few minutes, they managed to fight next to where Cas was, protecting the unconscious angel a bit, but soon the demons dragged them away from him and he was left there on the floor, alone and unprotected.

Dean was trying to fight and at the same time keep an eye on his angel, because Crowley was still around and no one was keeping him busy. He saw when Jess stabbed a demon in the groin and he fell, howling in pain while she threw holy water on him. Sam was one lucky bastard to have her.

Apparently Sam wasn't so bad either, because he stabbed a demon on the shoulder. But hey, the guy had practiced jiu-jitsu in college; he could take care of himself in a fight. Then another demon grabbed him by the waist and threw him against a pile of boxes, and Sam didn't get up. Shit.

"Sammy!" he called, but he couldn't concentrate on his brother, because the demon he was fighting tackled him to the ground and pinned him down. Then, there was another one holding his legs and shit, he was going to die like this, and the last thing he was going to see were two fucking demons laughing on his face.

"John!" he heard Jess yelling, "Touch the collar with it!"

He turned his head to the side and he saw his dad with Cas' blade in his hand, kneeling next to the angel and touching the collar on his neck with the tip of the blade.

That gave him strength to fight even harder, and he kicked at the demons, hitting one in the face and the other in the chest. But they were stronger, and they were two, so they pinned him to the floor again. One of them smiled deviously at him. "Who will save you now, pretty boy?"

"I will," Cas said from behind them, and hey, apparently a little bit of angel Grace was more than enough, because Cas put his hands over the demon's faces and they fucking _burned from the inside out_.

**NOW**

**Lawrence, Kansas, September 15****th****, 2013**

**CASTIEL**

When Dean laid him down on the floor, Castiel closed his eyes again. He was so, so tired, and maybe if he slept for just a few minutes, he would have the strength to try to get up and escape.

He could hear Dean and other people screaming, and he could hear blades and punches and grunts, but it all came to him through a misty haze and muffled sounds. He wanted to pray for help, maybe Gabriel would come and help them, but he couldn't concentrate enough, and all that noise kept distracting him.

Then John Winchester was beside him, and the pressure on his neck was _gone_, and in the sudden clarity that invaded him when the remains of his Grace returned, he heard Dean moaning and grunting, and he knew he _had _to do something; Dean was in danger.

He forgot the pain, the weakness, everything, and before he knew, he had his hands over two demon's faces and they were burning when his Grace touched them.

"Are you alright?" he asked, holding out his hand for Dean to get up.

Dean beamed at him. "Dude, are _you_?" and he kissed Castiel on the mouth right there, in the middle of the fight and the confusion. It was brief, only a second, but it gave the angel purpose to keep fighting.

But Crowley wasn't an amateur, and he hadn't gone to hell for playing fair. He snapped his fingers and more demons appeared, and the dismayed grunt Dean gave showed Castiel how tired he was. Looking around, the angel saw that everyone had redoubled their efforts and he felt a surge of gratitude for Jessaliel, Sam and John, because they had refused to let Dean fight alone.

This time, Crowley didn't keep watching, he practically flew onto Castiel and he was right there, in his face. "Gimme the angel blade, idiots!" he yelled to the other demons. And one of them must have disarmed John and kicked the blade in Crowley's direction, because he snarled at Castiel with the blade in his hand once more.

"Cas!" Dean shouted, and Castiel had time to turn his head and see Dean throwing the blade he was holding at the angel.

"So, this is how it's going to be?"Castiel asked, looking wearily at Crowley.

Crowley smiled. "Yes, darling, it is. You look like hell, and I should know. You're not up for this, and I'm much more powerful than you think."

Light started to shine from Castiel.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "You're still weak. Maybe you can get it up, but you can't _keep_ it up." And his hand flew to Castiel's neck, and he started chanting in latin. "_In hoc capi, quomodo confirmet eam quam!"_

Crowley repeated the phrase over and over, and Castiel knew what it was: a spell to trap his Grace away from him again. He wasn't strong enough and he had just used his Grace to kill two demons; there was no way he would get enough strength for this. The light inside him slowly died, and Crowley now had both hands around his neck and was squeezing the life out of him. He couldn't breathe and there were dark blotches dancing in his vision.

"Dean, no! Don't!" he heard Jessaliel yelling. But Dean dived to the floor, grabbing the angel blade Castiel had just dropped and buried it to the hilt on Crowley's neck.

Crowley howled. He let Castiel go and looked at Dean in disbelief, holding the wound with both hands, but blood was already gushing from it. So much that the demon's clothes were already red, and there was nothing he could do to stop his impending death anymore. Castiel grabbed the kitchen knife and, not even a little sorry, stabbed Crowley's host in the heart. Fergus McLeod was dead now, so Crowley wouldn't be able to come back this time. The demon's eyes closed and he fell on the floor. His body burned as if they had poured acid on him and yielded a red smoke smelling of sulfur.

The other demons stopped fighting and looked at one another, lost, and in the next minute there was black smoke everywhere, as they left their hosts, whose body fell on the floor, unconscious.

"Cowards," John muttered.

But Castiel wasn't paying attention to anyone except Dean, who had an astonished expression on his face, with his eyes huge and terrified.

"Cas?" he said, almost in a daze, looking at the blade in his hand and dropping it, as if it had burned his hand.

"Dean, no, Dean you shouldn't… why did you kill him?" Castiel said, alarmed, running to Dean and hugging him fiercely. You have no idea what you just did…!"

"Yes, I do," Dean whispered, hugging the angel with equal strength. "But he was going to kill_ you_, and I … I couldn't lose you."

"But you have no idea what you just did…!"

"I know everything; Jess told me. I… but Cas, if he'd killed you, then what? I don't wanna live in a world you're not a part of."

"Dean, no, no, please God, no…" Castiel babbled, hugging Dean fiercely."

Dean started to babble too. "I had no choice, I acted on an impulse, I didn't think! He was fucking _choking you to death_! Stupid angel, I wanted you back. If you'd just told me…!"

"I couldn't. They were going to hurt you if I did. All I did was trying to protect you, and I failed spectacularly."

"You're okay now," Dean whispered, frantically. "You're okay."

"Dean, I love you," Castiel said, desperate, fearing what he knew was about to come.

"Me too, Cas," Dean said, grief in his voice. "And if I have to die, I want you to know that I'm truly sorry for my sins, but especially the ones who hurt you… especially with Bella. I wanted to make you pay, and all I did was... to make you leave. She never meant anything, Cas… I only cared about you. Only you."

"Dean, I – " Castiel started, but a loud noise started, a screechy sound, thin and piercing, and all windows started trembling and breaking at the same time. "Oh no," he murmured. "The Grim Reaper is coming."

The others already had their hands on their ears, and there were trickles of blood on their fingers. Dean groaned and did the same, trying to protect his ears too. Castiel stood there in horror, because he knew the Pale Horseman had come to take Dean personally to Heaven.

His physical form was that of an old man, extremely thin, bald and with a huge nose. He was wearing a dark suit and he had an expression that portrayed his contempt for all present in the warehouse, Castiel included.

"I knew I would have to come personally to get this one. I could feel, even from Heaven, that you were already trying to find a way to deceive me, Castiel. Don't you know that no one cheats on Death?" Death said, looking at Castiel with disdain. "You had no intention to take this man's soul to Heaven like I ordered you to."

"Please, don't take him. Let him live," Castiel begged, stepping in front of Dean, still trying to protect him. "I'll do anything you want."

"What I wanted," Death yelled right on Castiel's face, "was for you to _obey_ me! And you didn't! You are a poor excuse for an angel, Castiel."

"Don't take him. I beg you," Castiel tried again, while Dean, Sam, Jess and John watched in horror the two angels fighting for Dean.

"Dean Winchester," Death said, ignoring Castiel's plead and looking at Dean instead. "You managed to break all of God's laws. You disobeyed each one of the Ten Commandments, the instructions God himself left to humans. For that, I sentence you to death, and to an eternity of services in Purgatory."

"No!" Castiel screamed, putting his arms protectively around Dean. "An eternity of servitude in Purgatory is a sentence of eternal suffering! His soul will never rest in the fields of the Lord!"

"And you think he deserves to _rest_? In _Heaven_?" Death approached Castiel and Dean, towering over them. "He is a _sinner_! He is _unworthy_ of being in the presence of other angels!"

Castiel was aware of Dean watching everything, paralyzed by a mix of fear and anger, and he didn't dare to even move or talk. He tightened his hold on Castiel, burying his face in the crook of the angel's neck and inhaled deeply. "I love you, Cas," he whispered.

Then, Death snapped his fingers and Dean grew slack in Castiel's arms.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

_In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. _

_The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep._

_And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters. _

_And God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. _

_And God saw that the light was good. _

_And God separated the light from the darkness. _

_God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. _

_And there was evening and there was morning, the first day. _

_Genesis 1: 1-31_

**CASTIEL**

"No, no, no, no!" Castiel screamed, feeling as if his heart was being torn from his chest in cold blood. "Dean, no, please, I'm sorry, please, please…" he sank to the floor, taking Dean with him, and cradled his still body, crying, sobbing in despair.

Sam ran to them and kneeled on the floor, tears already in his eyes. "Is he…dead?" he asked in disbelief.

John walked slowly to in their direction, staring at his son's dead body. "Son… Oh God, Dean, no…"

Jess was stricken with grief too. She walked slowly to where Sam was and kneeled by his side, putting his hand on his arm. He turned and hugged her, sobbing, while his face was hidden in the crook of her neck.

Castiel remained unaware of everything. All that mattered was that Dean, _his _Dean wasn't breathing. Castiel felt like he was drowning in dark, cold water, and everything had ceased to exist; he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't even start to process what had just happened.

He had known Dean for such a short period, when compared to his very long life… how was it possible that Dean was already his _everything_? And now he was dead, and Castiel would never see him again. His whole being _ached_ and he wanted to be dead too. Anything, just so he wouldn't feel like he was lost, suffocating, hopeless. He had lost everything. He had failed as an angel, as a protector, and his love had paid the price with his life.

He wasn't even aware that Death was still there. Only when the reaper spoke, Castiel looked at him.

There was contempt in Death's voice. "You are a disgrace, Castiel. You're a shame to all angels. Look at how far you have fallen… you're… crying for a human?"

Castiel didn't take his head off Dean's chest and he didn't stop crying. He wasn't ashamed of loving him. His only regret was that he had ever approached Dean Winchester, because he had no doubt he was the reason Dean was dead now. Maybe if he had kept his distance, Dean would still be alive. Death had wanted to teach him a lesson about obedience, and Dean had merely served as a pawn.

Now Castiel understood that he had loved Dean since the first moment he saw him. That was why he couldn't take his life, as ordered. Now the angel knew that, although Death had killed Dean, Castiel was the guilty one. Because Death was ready to make Dean's soul suffer forever, only to make Castiel pay for rebelling, only because he knew that Castiel would never have peace knowing Dean would be in pain. The angel would have to live forever with that knowledge and that alone would be pure torture for him.

He had never had a chance. Everything had been a scheme to teach him a lesson, so the Grim Reaper could keep his pride. Crowley had only made everything happen faster, but Castiel's mission and Dean's life had been doomed from the start.

He became vaguely aware that Jess was speaking to Death.

"Dean was good and kind. You and your schemes turned him into a puppet and finally killed him!" she said, her voice trembling. "Please, go away and let us burry him in peace."

Death glared at her. "Do not speak to me, child. You are not an angel anymore, Jessaliel. You gave this privilege up long ago."

Jess answered with no fear in her voice. "I think I am fortunate not to be an angel, so I will never have to obey a cruel being like you, ever again."

"She is right," Castiel said, finally finding his voice. "Dean didn't do anything wrong! It was all you, and I fell for it like a fool. You and your punishments, machinating, planning my failure before I even started to try and do something good for Dean! Why did you do this? I can't – " He gave a deep, shuddering breath, "I can't understand why. You are no better than Crowley, who wanted revenge for something I did! You wanted revenge too, and Dean paid for this!"

"Do not. Compare me. To. A. Demon!" Death roared.

"Take me instead." Castiel said, his eyes wild and desperate. "It's me you want to punish, not him. Bring him back. You don't even have to take me back to Heaven, I know you don't think I deserve to go back there. I give you my Grace, you bring him back and my Grace is yours!"

"I don't want your Grace, Castiel," Death snarled. "You're useless to me."

"Grace is power and you know it. I'm gladly giving it to you anyway, but you bring him back!" the angel yelled.

Death seemed to think for a few seconds. "Give me your Grace first and I'll see what can be done," he said finally with disdain.

"Very well, then." Castiel put Dean's head on the floor carefully and kissed his forehead. Then he grabbed his angel blade.

"Castiel, no…" Jess whispered.

But the angel didn't pay attention. He wasn't feeling anything besides desperation. He had to fix this. _Now._

"Father," Castiel whispered, closing his eyes and bowing his head in a prayer. "I am sorry for disappointing you. I am sorry for being less than what you wanted me to be, for being weak and for disobeying the Grim Reaper when it was my duty to work for him." He opened his eyes and looked at Dean's still face, and his lips formed a barely-there smile. "But I am not sorry for loving this man, because I _know_ his soul is good and pure, even with all the sins that weigh on him. You created him and everything you do is perfect. Please, let him live. I may be not worthy of your love, but I hope to be worthy of your forgiveness."

"This is useless," Death said, irritated. "God has no time for lesser angels like you. If you are going to rip you Grace off, do it, boy; I don't have all the time in the world."

"He is my Father too, and I talk to Him whenever I want." Castiel said, looking calm and resolute. "I know He can hear me, because He pays attention to all his children and I am one of them, even if I'm one that never stood before Him."

Then Castiel plunged the knife in his own chest and screamed, feeling his insides melting in searing pain and agony. He started to shine again, but this time it was a lot brighter; there was light coming from his eyes, his nose, his mouth, the tips of his fingers. "My Grace is yours now. Collect it and bring Dean back," he whispered. Then he started to scream in agony.

Everyone closed their eyes, except for Death. He only stood there, with a frozen, cruel smile on his face through Castiel's pain. The light leaving his body remained above him like a fog, floating in the air, like it was waiting for something.

Still screaming, while his own essence burned, Castiel slid slowly to the floor until he stopped, quiet and lifeless, and all the light in his body went out. And everyone saw, in horror, on the ground, framing his body, the mark of two huge wings, like ashes of what he'd been.

The Grim Reaper sighed heavily. "Fool," he said. "You're wrong. You just killed yourself and thus you committed the greatest sin of all. And all for nothing. Your Grace is torn, in pieces and tainted too, for you dared to love another more than you love your Father. You have no use to me, Castiel. Neither alive, nor dead." He waved one hand and the fog that had been Castiel's Grace, slowly dissolved, until it vanished like it had never been there.

"You didn't take his Grace…" Jess murmured in disbelief. "It's gone."

"What?" Sam squealed. "Aren't you going to bring Dean back?"

"Quiet, or you'll be dead in a very short time."

"But you said – " Jess hissed.

"I said I would see what could be done. And in this case, _nothing_ can be done. This man's soul is already paying for his numerous sins and Castiel is… exactly what he deserves to be: nothing."

"You mean you _lied_?" Sam was incredulous.

"Keep your hairless monkey quiet, Jessaliel. I'm sure Castiel's lover would appreciate this one's company in Purgatory."

"Please, don't," she whispered, grabbing Sam's arm.

"I am glad this is over. Dealing with you lot is tiring." And Death disappeared in the blink of an eye, just like that, leaving them all speechless and stricken.

"What are we going to do now?" Sam said, completely lost, looking to Jess as if asking for guidance.

"All we can do is pray for them," she said, kneeling next to Castiel and closing his still open eyes.

"And what good would it do now?" They all turned to see Gabriel, who appeared out of nowhere and was already cradling Castiel's head and resting it on his lap. "You stupid, stupid child," he said, devastated. "It wasn't supposed to end like this. I should have come sooner; you shouldn't have done this! How could you be such a fool? You don't bargain with the Grim Reaper! Now you fucking killed yourself for nothing, Cassie!" he said, shaking his head.

"What now? Another one?" asked John. "Can't I mourn my son in peace?"

Jess sighed tiredly. "This is Gabriel, the archangel, Mr. Winchester."

"Oh." John didn't seem impressed, and went right to business. He eyed Gabriel wearily. "If you're an archangel, can't you undo this?"

"No," Gabriel shook his head. "I wish I could, but even an archangel has limitations."

"I prayed for you, Gabriel, so many times…" Jess said, tears going down her face.

"I couldn't come earlier." Gabriel ran his hands through Castiel's hair, carefully, slowly, almost with reverence, like the older brother he was. "I heard you, but even I have duties. Being Messenger of God means I have messages to deliver, sis. I came as soon as I could."

"You're late," John said, kneeling beside Dean whose head was cradled in Sam's lap now. "My son is gone."

"My brother is gone too," Gabriel snapped. Then he frowned, looking at his dead brother. "But maybe…" he frowned, appearing to be thinking very hard about something. "I wonder if…" he trailed off.

"What, Gabriel?" Jess asked.

Gabriel touched Dean's forehead briefly and a faint blue light started to emanate from Dean's body. "There. This will keep his body from decaying."

Without any effort at all, Gabriel got up with Castiel in his arms. It was almost funny, because Castiel was clearly bigger than him, yet Gabriel held his motionless body like he weighed nothing. "I will be back when I can. _If_ I can."

"Where are you going?" Jess asked.

"Can't tell you, sis. There's something I have to try, and maybe, I said _maybe_, I can undo some of this mess. Maybe not everything, but at least part of it."

"What about Dean?" Sam asked. "What do we do?"

"Well, that's obvious, don't burry him!" the archangel snapped, impatient. "Keep his body somewhere safe. I can't promise anything, so don't get all hopeful but… maybe his soul will need a body to come back to."

John nodded resolutely. "Can we do anything to help?"

"Pray for his soul." Gabriel shook his head sadly. "Time runs differently in Purgatory. He's already been there for a couple of years, give or take. And he has a lot to atone to."

**SAM**

They took Dean's body to Jessica's house. John wouldn't dare to take his dead son where Mary could see him. They were all waiting to see if Gabriel could do anything. They doubted. Dean was_ dead_, and to Sam that was pretty final. But Jess urged them to have faith. So, they prayed.

Sam was still in shock. He had always joked that Jess was an angel, but to know she was _really_ an angel took things to a whole different level. He wanted to be mad at her for lying to him, but he couldn't. If she had even tried to tell him the truth, he would have thought she was crazy.

As soon as Dean left to go after Cas, Jess – still crying – had called Missouri, insisting that their old friend was fundamental for what she was about to say. Together, Missouri and Jess had told him who his fiancée really was, and at first Sam laughed nervously, because it had to be a joke, right?

But Jess couldn't stop crying and asking for forgiveness, and Missouri was right there telling him a crazy story about fallen angels coming to work in the diner until she could find a place for them. It was crazy. Surreal. These things didn't exist, right?

Only, Missouri never lied. She had helped Mary raise them and she was like a second mother to him. Sam was sure she would never, _ever,_ try to fool him in any way.

Which, of course, meant the story she and Jess were telling _had _to be true.

They had run to Cas' rescue because Sam would not let his brother alone in a situation like that, and part of Sam secretly hoped Missouri and Jess had exaggerated a bit. Maybe Cas had been kidnapped by criminals, plain and simple human beings, right? There were a lot of cruel people in the world. Surely when they talked about demons, it was a figure of speech, right?

Well, it wasn't. And Death itself had joined the party in the end. Sam still didn't know how he was able to fight them, because he kept thinking 'this can't be happening' and all he wanted was to wake up and find out he was just having a nightmare.

Now his brother was dead. Probably suffering in Purgatory. Forever. And on top of everything, Jess had told him another crazy story, this time about Castiel, the grim Reaper, the Ten Commandments and Dean.

They took turns watching over Dean's body. But whenever it was Sam's turn, Jess always stayed with him. She looked nervous, tiptoeing around Sam like a child afraid of being reprimanded. Every time she talked to him, she averted her eyes, as if looking at him was painful, as if she was waiting for him to send her away. Sam was sure she thought he was going to end everything between them.

But the thing was that… he loved her. She wasn't fully human, would never be, and who knew if they would ever be able to have children. But Sam didn't care. He loved her; angel, human, mermaid, he didn't care. She was good and brave, and she had kicked ass back in the warehouse. He was _proud _of her.

But seeing his brother dead, his motionless body emanating an eerie blue light, it was just too much. It made everything he wanted to say to his fiancée stupid and useless. How could he talk about them when Dean was in Purgatory? How could he talk about anything when Sam knew that even though Dean's body was there with them, his soul was suffering?

So he just squeezed Jessica's hand and prayed harder.

**GABRIEL**

"Joshua, I need to talk to you."

"Why, hello to you too, Gabriel," the Gardener said with a smile, but seeing Gabriel's expression, his face turned serious. "What happened?"

"I need your help."

Gabriel had left Castiel's body safe back in his house on Earth. He didn't want to have to worry about its safety, because he feared he would have to fight. Or not. It all would depend on what he would find here.

"Is there a new tree in the Garden?" Gabriel asked, looking over Joshua's shoulder.

"Yes, in fact, there is; a new cypress. Very, very strong and beautiful."

"Do you know which angel created it?"

Joshua smiled. "I always know. Sometimes it's hard to tell, but not for me. I know each and every one of you."

"Who is it?" Gabriel insisted, starting to get anxious.

"Castiel. One of the purest Graces, I should say. But frankly, I never thought Castiel would decide to fall. He always seemed so devoted to Heaven.""

"Castiel _didn't fall_," Gabriel said when Joshua pointed at the tree that had his brother's Grace in it. "He… well, he died. Kind of. I saw the marks his wings left on the floor. But it wasn't really death, I mean, he… it's a long story."

Angels had been made to be eternal creatures; they were meant to live forever. Therefore, if an angel died – by an angel blade or by holy fire, the only things that could kill an angel – the Grace would simply vanish; there wasn't an afterlife; that was for humans.

On the other hand, if the angel fell, the Grace would simply stay in Heaven, because they belonged here. And Joshua, as the Gardener he was, and as a tribute to his fallen brothers and sisters, always made sure they turned into beautiful trees, and he had always cared for them. Many angels saw the fallen ones as unworthy, but the Gardener always made sure they were remembered somehow.

Gabriel hadn't had much hope that Castiel's Grace wouldn't be lost; but he was desperate, and since his death hadn't been natural – or what passed for natural for an angel – Gabriel had come here as a last attempt to see if there was something, _anything_ he could do for his brother. It was with unimaginable relief that he looked at the cypress now, knowing that Castiel's Grace was safe, even though he had no idea how it had ended up here.

Joshua shook his head. "If he died, his Grace couldn't be here. You know that when an angel dies, he just ceases to exist. The Grace doesn't go anywhere, it just vanishes. The trees are only for the fallen ones."

"I bet that is what Death was counting on; that Castiel would turn into nothing." Gabriel said to himself, shaking his head. "But Castiel sacrificed himself. He was _deceived_. And if his Grace didn't vanish, if it's here, it's because he's not completely gone yet. And I have a chance to retrieve it."

Joshua looked at the Angel of Thursday's tree for a long time. "If you saw his wings' marks on the floor, I can confirm he died. But for his Grace to be here… someone probably thought he was worth saving, Gabriel. He was brought back."

"You mean our Father…?"

"We don't see Him all the time. Some of us never did." Joshua said with a knowing smile. "But it doesn't mean He doesn't see us all the time. He is omnipresent. Which means He knows you've been helping fallen angels on Earth. But this is a conversation for later. As for Castiel, our Father is the only one who could bring a dead angel's Grace here. I don't see who else would have the power to do it."

Gabriel looked down, his secret now in the open, but he tried not to think about that now. "I told you, Castiel was deceived. He was played like a fool and I need to help him."

"Calm down, Gabriel," Joshua said in his very calm voice. "You have always had a strong temperament. Many of us, me included, thought you would turn into a big prankster. Who would have said you would turn into such a compassionate one?"

"You don't understand, Joshua. Cassie prayed for me. He and Jess they needed my help, but I couldn't go to them and now he is… Crap. Like I said, it's a long story."

Joshua smiled softly. "Come on, brother, why don't you tell me this story of yours? I have all the time in the world."

It was common knowledge that Joshua was one of the only angels who spoke to God, even if he merely listened while God did all the talking. But this time, Joshua came back with a bemused expression, stating that God has asked for _his opinion _about Castiel and his predicament, of all things. And even if He hadn't done what Joshua suggested, He confirmed that He had been the one who brought Castiel back, because the angel had prayed to Him, and He had listened.

Joshua had stared at Gabriel for a long time before speaking. "I asked Him if He could bring our brother and his human back, and He said He could, but wouldn't. Because, although Castiel was fooled, he still disobeyed. Not because of his love for the human, but because he wanted to be able to choose if Dean Winchester lived or died, and that is Free Will, something angels simply don't have. Our Father said He is not angry, but He wants Castiel to learn that if he wants Free Will, he can have it, as long as he learns how to live with the consequences of his choices. He said you are allowed to take Castiel's Grace back and bring him back, but ours interference ends here. The rest is up to him to decide."

So, Gabriel went to the Garden with Castiel's dead body in his arms. It was quiet and silent, since it was night, or the equivalent to night in Heaven. Gabriel looked around warily, expecting to see one of his many brothers and sisters, but there was no one there. Joshua had assured him that there was no problem taking Castiel's Grace back. But Gabriel knew that if other angels saw him, they would start to question; some would even disapprove and that could disrupt the order in Heaven, because until now, no angel whose Grace was in the Garden had never,_ ever_ got it back.

Gabriel smiled softly. "My Father rules," he thought, thankful. Because God indeed ruled everything: past, present and future, everything was His and no one could go against His orders. Those who did ended up like Morningstar, and that alone was lesson enough for the angels. It would never cease to amaze Gabriel how his Father could be everywhere at the same time, how amazing he was, and how he had listened to the prayers of a lesser angel – Castiel – in his moment of despair, and had given him a chance.

He neared the cypress and carefully put Castiel's body under the canopy. He felt a soft breeze on his face, as if the cypress were _talking_ to him, which was crazy. Castiel wasn't _conscious_ in there, was he? Of course not. But Gabriel could almost fell the _thank you_ in the wind. He raised his hand and put it in the tree's trunk.

"_Castiel, gassegen ol oiad ge-iad torzv." *_

The bright, white light started in the center of the trunk, but soon spread everywhere, seeming exultant, almost dancing, since it was no longer trapped. Gabriel didn't flinch; he smiled instead, because his little brother was beautiful, his light pure and strong. The light then coalesced into a white beam, while a high-pitched sound could be heard. The beam of light enveloped Castiel's inert body and entered it through the nostrils, like air. The sharp sound ceased suddenly; everything was quiet. Castiel gave a loud sigh and opened his eyes.

**CASTIEL**

Castiel woke up and the first thing he saw was clear blue sky. He instinctively recognized Heaven, his home, the place where he had been created, where he had spent millennia. He blinked slowly and, in the half-second it took him to remember everything, he was at peace.

Then he sat up, alarmed, gasping, eyes huge, moving fast and wildly, looking around, searching, because he had to find –

"Dean!" he gasped.

"Calm down, bro. Save your strength."

"Gabriel." Castiel blinked again, and Gabriel's face came into focus before him. "Why am I here? Where is Dean? Is he alright? I want to see him."

"Cassie…" Gabriel averted his eyes and sighed. "Things aren't pretty for you guys."

Cold dread filled Castiel's insides. "What went wrong?"

"Death didn't bring Dean back."

"What?" Castiel almost jumped from the grass he was lying on. "Dean is still in Purgatory?"

Gabriel nodded. "You shouldn't have trusted the Reaper. Apparently he had no intention of taking your Grace in return for Dean's life. He just wanted to make you disappear."

Castiel buried his hands in his hair in a desperate gesture. "What do I do now? I can't leave Dean there!"

"Can you please stop thinking about Dean Winchester for two seconds and start thinking about you for a change? We almost lost your Grace!" Gabriel lost his patience. "It vanished in thin air!"

"I can't!" Castiel snapped. "He's there because of me!"

"He's there because Death wanted to play tug of war with you! It's Death's fault, not yours!"

"If I had just obeyed him, none of this would have happened. I would have brought Dean's soul to Heaven and…"

"And he would be dead, just as dead as he is now."

"But he would be in Heaven! Not in Purgatory!"

"And you would never have met him." Gabriel rolled his eyes and put his hands on Castiel's shoulders. "Now stop with the self recrimination. Come on, you're alive and you're still an angel, your Grace is back, full power now. Isn't that good?"

Castiel shook his head, not even a little excited to be alive. "How am I even here? I should be dead."

"You were, believe me. Only, it wasn't really death; it was a trade. You made a deal, right? You gave something and you should have gained something in return. The moment Death fooled you, it stopped being a trade and your Grace just zapped itself to the Garden. You were a very impressive tree, by the way."

"My Grace shouldn't have 'zapped itself' anywhere."

"I know. But… well, Dad was looking, Cassie. You prayed to him, didn't you? Well, He gave you a second chance."

Castiel widened his eyes. "God brought me back?"

"No one else could have done it. He knows everything, sees everything, remember?"

Castiel ﷽ listened, bro.. before I ripped my Grace away from , and he gave you a second e? We almost lost you"I did pray to Him before I... before I ripped my Grace away from me. But I had no idea, no hope at all that He would hear me."

"He listened, bro."

"Why did He do it?" Castiel stared at Gabriel, in disbelief. "I don't deserve it. I am nothing; I am not worthy of His mercy. I am only a mere angel, I am less than a grain of dust in Heaven."

"_Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time He may exalt you."_ Gabriel half smiled. "Peter, 5:6. You know, there are lots and lots of misinterpretation in the human's Bible, but this one they got right. He rewarded you exactly because you don't think you deserved it. And you know what? Death thinks too highly of himself, Cassie. I believe in due time, Dad will have him reminded of who gives the cards around here."

Castiel took a deep breath, looking around. "I missed the Garden. I missed Heaven, I truly did. But Gabriel, my place is not here. Father brought me back, and I am grateful, believe me. But all I want to do is try to save Dean's soul."

"Are you sure? Because you'll be on your own there, bro. Why can't you be happy to be an angel again and leave it at that? Wouldn't it be good to have your old life back?"

"Things can never be the same again," Castiel whispered. "Not when I know he's still there."

"Is he worth it?" Gabriel asked, almost sounding resigned.

Castiel shrugged. "I love him. I can never be happy without him."

"Well, love is really something, isn't it?" Gabriel nodded, almost to himself, then looked at Castiel, serious "Cassie, you do realize your Romeo needs to at least pay for some of his sins if he ever wants to leave that place, don't you?"

Castiel put his hand on Gabriel's arm, serious. "He doesn't belong there. If there is a way for me to set him free, I will. But… even if there is a way… will I be allowed to try?"

"No one's going to interfere." Gabriel sighed. "Well, bro, if that's what you want…cheer up, because I know of a way. If you really wanna do that, you're going to save your boyfriend."

**DEAN**

Pain. A mountain of huge stones that needed to be loaded from one side to the other, a pile that never got smaller no matter how many stones you carried. No rest, no food, no sleep. The occasional beast wanting to tear your head off your body. Extreme heat, then extreme cold. Grime and dirt everywhere.

That was life – well, death, actually – in Purgatory for Dean Winchester.

His backs hurt. His limbs ached. His head pounded. His stomach grumbled. And the damn drizzle that never went away made the rocks he had to carry slippery as hell.

There were many others in his situation, but he was not allowed to speak to anyone. He only had his own thoughts to keep him company, and the silence was driving him crazy. He was starting to get a little mad; prone to hysterical laughs intermingled with tears that never seemed to stop. Creatures that looked like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame were everywhere, watching his every move, ready to cut him with a machete if he even looked to the side. It was like living in a maximum security prison.

Only, his sentence would never end.

He had been entertaining the idea of killing himself; of grabbing one of the machetes and burrying it in his own chest. He would welcome oblivion with a smile, because no one could stand this for eternity. On the other hand, what if killing himself took him to Hell? If Purgatory was like this, Hell would be a hundred times worse, wouldn't it? An eternity there would turn him into something he couldn't even fathom.

He could find one of the beasts and stay in its way; maybe it would kill him. But he could still feel pain, dammit, and he wasn't looking forward to feeling his head being ripped off. Besides, he was already dead. How could he die twice? This was it, his forever, and maybe if he got crazy it wouldn't hurt so much.

In short: there was no escape for him.

Castiel's image came to his mind suddenly. More like a carrousel of images, actually, little moments they had lived, that insisted on coming to Dean's mind to torment him: Cas with a pie in his hands, proudly giving it to Dean, wearing the stupid yellow apron with flour everywhere; then Cas quietly reading a book, frowning at the small letters, insisting that he didn't need glasses; then Cas singing off-key to the songs on Dean's radio while Dean drove and drove with no particular destination. Cas naked, under him, his stare intense and full of love.

Dean obviously didn't want to be here, but he didn't regret killing Crowley, because he had saved Cas' life. Cas was alive, he was a freaking angel; he would live forever, because Dean had helped him. Knowing that was enough.

It was sad that he had realized how much he loved the feathery bastard only in the end. Dean had said '_I love you'_ when everything was sun and flowers but… he'd said he didn't love Cas after the truth came out. Yeah, sure, it was _big_, Cas was an _angel_ and Dean asked himself if he really knew Cas at all. But then Cas was in danger, and Dean realized that he didn't mind that Cas was an angel; fuck, he could be an E.T. and Dean would still love every piece of him.

Well, it was too late now. He would never see Cas again.

Dean had been in Purgatory for what felt like decades now. He couldn't be sure, because there was no day or night, no nothing, just a gray mist everywhere he looked. But even after all this time, the memory of Castiel's face still plagued him, and he missed the angel so much that it physically _hurt_.

Suddenly, there was a strong light coming from somewhere, so bright it almost blinded Dean, but he didn't have time to cover his eyes, because he heard screams, terrified ones, and suddenly, everywhere he looked there was _fire_.

"Leviathan!" he heard in the distance, and Dean looked around, seeing dark shadows amongst the flames. Leviathans were the worst creatures that had ever existed. Cruel, merciless, they roamed Purgatory tearing the poor souls trapped here _for fun_, apparently, because it wasn't hard to hear their strident laughter among the screams.

Not knowing what to do, Dean started running without even look behind, away from the creatures, from the fire and especially from the heat. That was new: fire, on top of everything, as if the torture to be here wasn't enough? This was Purgatory, dammit, not Hell.

He ran until his whole body hurt. He ran until his feet bled. But he was getting tired, and the heat made it difficult to move. Everything was burning around him and now there was sweat in his eyes, he couldn't see straight. He could feel someone right behind him; whether it was another poor sod like him or a monster, he couldn't tell. There was so much _noise_, screams, grunts and growls that Dean was a little dizzy with it. He kept running, barely seeing where he was going. It didn't matter, as long as he got away from the heat and noise. But when a cliff appeared right in front of him, he had to stop and turn around.

The last think he saw before being pushed off the edge was Cas' face.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"_Castiel, gassegen ol oiad ge-iad torzv._Castiel, Angel of the Lord, rise.


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15**

_Do you not know? _

_Have you not heard? _

_The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. _

_He will not grow tired or weary, and His understanding no one can fathom. _

_He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. _

_Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; _

_but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. _

_They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint._

_Isaiah, 40:20-31_

**GABRIEL**

"Here, this is the portal," Gabriel said. "This is as far as I can get you."

Castiel looked at the twisted black tree, growing in the middle of the field like a cancer, killing all the plants around it. "It's alright, Gabriel, I am very grateful."

Gabriel put his hand in Castiel'd arm. "Cassie, think again, will you? You'll be an angel in a land of abominations. From the moment you arrive everything will start hunting you."

"I understand."

"I don't think you do. You know what's in there? Not just monsters, Cassie. Leviathans. You'll have a price on your head. You'll make them salivate just from the scent of your Grace. They won't rest until they rip it out of you. This is big, little brother. I told you that purgatory has an escape hatch, but only humans can get through. Once you get in there, the only way you can get out is if you stop being an angel. This is… you can die. For good, this time. "

"Will I turn into a human?"

"I sure hope so, or you won't be able to get out. No angel had ever done this, so it's hard to know."

"If I can…at least get Dean out, I'll be glad."

Gabriel threw his hands in the air, exasperated. "And here you come with the self sacrifice. Haven't you get in enough trouble acting like this? How do you think Dean will feel knowing you're there in his place?"

Castiel didn't want to think about it. If he couldn't get out, so be it. Even if he died saving Dean, he didn't mind. He just wanted Dean safe, because no matter what Gabriel said, it was his fault that Dean was in Purgatory, and no one else's. "How will I find him?" He asked, trying to be objective. There was no use in dwelling in what ifs.

"He died in your arms. There's a connection between you. Your Grace will guide you to him."

The angel nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'm ready," he said. "And… if I don't make it, brother, I… thank you."

"Just… try to come back, okay?" Gabriel said, suddenly blinking fast. "I'll be waiting here for you guys. Someone has to take Dean's soul back to Earth."

They stood side by side, facing the black tree, and together, they started chanting in Latin. Suddenly, a lighting fell on the tree, right in the middle of it, dividing it in two parts. And between the two halves there was a black space that seemed to emanate a foul smell; the smell of pure evil.

"Go on, and be fast," Gabriel said. "It's your best chance."

Castiel gulped, eyeing the blackness before him. There was no going back now. Dean needed him. He walked purposefully to the void between the tree pieces and disappeared inside it.

"Good luck, little brother," Gabriel whispered.

**CASTIEL**

There was no time to think. The moment Castiel went through the portal, he was assaulted by the worst stench imaginable, like rotten flesh and suffocating smoke. "_Dean_," he concentrated, trying the connection he hoped would be there, but there was no time, because there was already a group of creatures in front of him. They were human-shaped, black like ink, with twisted and scarred skin there seemed to emanate smoke, black and dense.

Leviathans.

Their white eyes gleamed with delight, their arms reaching to touch him, and they were approaching alarmingly fast. They made a noise; half screeching, half moaning and the angel had never heard a sound so maddening. Castiel had been alive since the beginning of times, but Leviathans were much older, and he had never seen such horrendous creatures in his life.

There wasn't much he could do. Letting them get to him wasn't an option, not before he found Dean. They were stronger than him, and his only chance was taking them by surprise. He raised an arm, pointing his finger to the nearest ones and fire erupted from his hand. Pure, white flames, coming from the very core of his Grace, burned the Leviathans instantly.

But more came. Many, many more, and Castiel knew he couldn't win. Soon there was fire everywhere, because Castiel couldn't do anything other than try to burn them. The trees all around were on flames now, and it was spreading fast. "Leviathan!" he yelled, and all around him, the other creatures, that until now had remained paralyzed in disbelief, started to run.

The confusion came like an avalanche, creatures of all sizes, some humans, some monsters, started running, taking everything apart in their path. The ground itself seemed to shake; they were so many. Castiel started running too, looking around desperately, afraid he had made things worse. "Dean!" he called. "Dean!" he tried to concentrate, but it wasn't easy, with so much confusion and so much noise around him and the smoke making it hard for him to see where he was going.

He reached the center of a gray field where great piles of stones were scattered here and there. He stopped, knowing that the Leviathans would reach him soon, but if he didn't concentrate, he would never be able to feel the connection between him and Dean. And, if he didn't do it now, he would never find the man.

"Dean," he whispered, instead of screaming. His heart, his mind and his Grace called to the man he loved so much, for whom he would give everything up, even die with a smile on his face, if that meant his love would be safe. He tried to free his mind of the fear, the worry, the hesitation, and concentrated on Dean's face, hoping to at least get a clue of where to find him.

He felt, more than saw, something tugging at the periphery of his vision. Dirty blond hair, broad shoulders; he would recognize Dean anywhere. He spread his wings to go after him, but felt a sharp pain at his side, and looked behind him, only to see the Leviathans so near he could see their twisted faces. There was a hook on his left wing now, and they were pulling him, their yellow teeth visible as their contorted smiles showed their glee.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Castiel started to run, instead of flying, and the hook pulled harder, but he didn't stop until it cut through his wing, making him cry in pain. It wasn't enough to make him stop, though, because now he could see the back of Dean's head, and he willed himself to be stronger, trying to forget the pain for a few seconds because he was getting closer, closer, just a few minutes and he would be able to reach him.

He didn't have a few minutes, though. More hooks pulled at his left wing, and now at the right one too, and even though Castiel had always known that he would never leave this place with them intact, it broke his heart to know that this was really happening, he was really going to lose them.

A few yards away, Castiel saw that Dean stopped, looking down. He was at the edge of a cliff and there was no way for him to escape anywhere. Seeing no other alternative, Castiel reached inside himself, searching for the purest form of his Grace, using the remaining strength he had, and ran faster, breaking free from the hooks, but with his wings torn and tattered.

He saw Dean turning to him, and there was no time to warn him, or to say 'I'm sorry.' He knew what he had to do, and maybe, if he survived, he could explain to Dean why he was doing that. A flash of surprise crossed Dean's face before Castiel pushed him off the cliff. He could feel the foul breath of the Leviathans at the back of his neck, but they would never get him now, because he was jumping off the cliff after Dean.

He spread what had remained of his wings with extreme difficulty, and fought the nausea that came with the pain, but he flew to where Dean was falling and caught him in his arms. He had passed out, and the additional weight put more strain in Castiel's already ruined wings. He felt them tearing apart, the bones breaking, the feathers scattering. Screaming in pain, he looked down, trying to find somewhere safe to land, but all he could see were sharp rocks below and a small patch of gray grass that he was sure he would miss. He was falling too, his wings no longer working, but somehow still flapping, slowing the fall.

He managed to reach the patch of grass, but he lost consciousness before he reached the ground.

**DEAN**

Dean woke up with his whole body aching. For a few seconds, he just remained there, with his eyes closed, breathing deeply. As far as he could tell, there was nothing broken. He was, miraculously, alright. Or, as the case was, he was dead, but the important part was that he was apparently in one piece.

What the hell had happened?

Turning his head to one side, he didn't see anything new; only the same gray mist that seemed to penetrate everything. There was no nights and days here, only the same grayness, giving the place a gloomy and unnatural atmosphere.

When he turned his head to the other side, though, what he saw was very different.

"Cas!" he said, his eyes widening, and he fought the pain and tried to sit up. "How – when – where – shit, Cas, what are you doing here?"

Castiel was quiet, taking shallow breaths, with his eyes open, looking at the gray sky, as if lost in thought. Hearing Dean's voice, his eyes focused again and he looked at the man beside him, trying to make his voice sound steady. "Rescuing you," he said. "Or, at least, trying to."

"Oh," was all that Dean could think at the moment. He wanted to touch the angel, hold him and thank him a million times. But what if he was hallucinating? It had happened before; he had seen Sammy and Cas so many times that he'd lost count. He kept staring at Cas' blue eyes, afraid to try to touch him and realize he wasn't really there.

"We need to move," Cas said with a trembling voice. "The Leviathans will find us soon and there is no way I can fight them like this."

The quiver in his voice made Dean stop. "You're really here."

"I am," Cas said, his hand grasping Dean's weakly. "I found you."

Dean wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. He looked, really looked at Cas, seeing his blue eyes, crazy hair, the five o'clock shadow on his chin and jaw. Cas was _here_. With his beautiful face, his intense stare and his bloodied clothes. His very bloodied clothes.

"Cas, you're hurt!" he said alarmed. "What happened?"

"My wings," Cas grunted with a grimace of pain. "They're gone." He opened his mouth to say more, but they heard rumbles and howls in the distance, and Castiel took a deep, shaking breath, sitting up with difficulty. "We can't linger. We need to go _now_," he said with urgency. "We need to find at least a place to hide."

Dean nodded, astonished, and got up, extending his hand to Cas so the angel could get up too. Cas did, but lost his balance as soon as he tried to steady himself on the ground.

"Whoa," Dean put his arm around Cas' waist, mindful of the deep gashes on his backs. "You know, we need to stop meeting in situations like that. Come on, lemme help you."

They half ran, half stumbled through the small field, Cas moaning in pain with every step. Dean was not much better himself, but at least he could stand up on his own.

After a while, when Dean's legs were already cramping, they found a small cave. It wasn't much, but it was behind some large bushes, so they would be hidden at least for a while.

"They can feel my scent. The Grace, and now the blood," Cas whispered. He sat down heavily on the cold, hard stone and extended a hand to Dean. "Come here," he murmured. "Please."

Dean went, sitting beside him, but this time he didn't hesitate and hugged the angel. He had practically carried Cas here; he was sure this Cas was very real. "Sorry, sorry!" he said, when Cas grunted in pain. "How come I'm not dreaming?" he asked, holding Cas' face with both hands. "You're really here."

"I am," Cas nodded slightly. "I couldn't leave you here, Dean. You don't belong in a place like this."

Dean sighed. "I don't want to sound like a martyr or anything, but… I did break the Ten Commandments."

"You've already paid for your sins here. And you werw led to commit those sins, Dean. That counts."

"Alright, alright. I'm not gonna argue with you, buddy. You're the angel here, you're the expert in Heaven things, not me."

"Dean… there's something I need to do." Before Dean could say anything, Castiel closed his eyes really tight and put one of his fingers on Dean's forehead. All the pain immediately left the man's body and the cuts and bruises on his skin vanished.

"The fuck?" Dean said.

"You can't die in Purgatory; you're already dead. But you can suffer, and I refuse to let that happen if I can stop it."

The man shook his head in disbelief. Only Cas would think of Dean first. "Why the hell you used your mojo with me, man? Heal yourself first, you look like shit," he finished affectionately.

"I will," Castiel said, already closing his eyes. "But it will take some time for me to heal; these wounds are too deep. I need you to watch the cave's entrance."

"Please, tell me you have a plan," Dean said, looking at Cas with apprehension. The angel looked exhausted, ready to pass out any minute. Dean couldn't die here, but Cas probably could. Still sitting, Dean leaned against the wall, legs straight, and laid Castiel on his side, putting the angel's head on his lap.

"I do," Cas whispered faintly, already half-asleep. "But I need to heal first, while I still can use my Grace; while I still have it."

"What do you mean while you still have your Grace? Cas? What did you do?" Dean asked, but Cas was already asleep. "Cas!" Dean insisted, shaking Cas' head a little to wake him up, dread suddenly filling his whole being. Cas frowned, gave a small whimper, but didn't wake up. "I'm not going to like this plan, will I?" he whispered, running his hand through Cas' soft brown hair.

Outside, the howls and grunts seemed to be farther, but Dean wasn't going to get his hopes up. He knew there was no escaping these creatures, and Cas talking about his Grace like that didn't sound very promising.

Sighing, Dean looked at Cas once more, and at the frown he had on his face, even asleep. His gashes weren't bleeding anymore, but they were still deep. It hurt to even look at them. He wanted to feel bad for Cas, who had obviously gotten hurt trying to rescue Dean, but the truth was that he felt so grateful, so relieved to see Cas again that he could cry. It was selfish, but hey, he hadn't gotten a place here being pure and noble.

What mattered was that Cas was here, and if the angel had said that he had a plan, then he had a plan, and Dean hoped it would work. Cas had come for him, he had gotten inside freaking Purgatory for him, and if that wasn't love, Dean didn't know what was.

An angel of the Lord was in love with him. Him, Dean Winchester, fucked up, stubborn, stupid and selfish. And Cas loved him anyway. Shit. Wasn't that mindblowing.

Then he remembered something, and looked at Cas again, frowning a little. "Hey? Cas?" he asked, even though he knew Cas wouldn't wake up now. "Why did you push me off that cliff?"

**CASTIEL**

"Wake up! Cas, you gotta wake up, man!" Dean's voice insisted, guiding Castiel's mind through the mist and back to reality. "Cas they are getting closer, wake up, wake up!"

Castiel sat up fast, startled by the panic in Dean's voice. "I'm awake," he assured the man beside him, and seeing the question in Dean's eyes, he nodded curtly, "I'm alright." Well, he wasn't fully healed, he would never heal completely again, his wings were _gone_ and he would missed them forever. But the gashes had closed, leaving angry red marks instead. "We need to leave. Get ready."

"Ready for what?" Dean asked, eyes wide and alarmed.

"Close your eyes," Castiel said, looking at the cave's entrance. The noises were very close now. There was no time to waste. "Remember that I love you."

"Why? Cas, what are you – "

"Just close your eyes, Dean! _Now_!" Castiel yelled. He was partly grateful that there was no time to have second thoughts. The Leviathans were close and if Castiel didn't do what he needed to do _now_, he and Dean would be torn to shreds very soon. Dean would suffer and heal, only to be torn to shreds again. And Castiel would die, leaving Dean forever trapped inside this place.

He pulled his angel blade from his sleeve and drew a symbol on the ground. It was his name in Enochian, and he felt his Grace flaring inside his chest. Saying the spell was easy enough, and although Dean whispering "_Oh God, oh God, Cas, I love you, don't do anything stupid_," beside him was distracting, Castiel finished the last line without hesitation. His Grace poured from his eyes, mouth, nose, everywhere, and went straight to Castiel's name on the ground. There was a whooshing noise, and a pool of white light appeared on the place where the symbol had been.

"It's a portal. Open your eyes, it's okay to look now. You need to jump, Dean. It'll be alright."

"Cas?"Dean looked at him, his breath hitching. "You're coming with me, right?"

Castiel grabbed Dean's head and gave him a fast but firm kiss. "I'll never leave you, Dean. Never, because you're my reason to live. Trust me. Wait for me."

And once more, he pushed Dean over the edge.


	16. Chapter 16

**EPILOGUE**

_For by grace you have been saved through faith._

_And this is not your own doing; _

_It is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. _

_For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them._

_Ephesians, 2:8-10_

_Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High _

_will rest in the shadow of the Almighty._

_I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress, _

_my God, in whom I trust."_

_Psalm 91_

**Lawrence, Kansas, December, 2013**

Dean usually would wake up at five A.M. He would turn on the coffee maker and go out for a run. That would take half an hour tops, and he would come home straight to the shower. Breakfast would almost always mean just black coffee, but sometimes he had a toast. He ate standing by the counter, looking through the window as the sun slowly rose.

At eight he would be at the garage, which now he called a car shop, because the business had improved, since he had new business partners. He liked to arrive when it was still empty, just to make sure everything was in place before the first client arrived.

At eight thirty he opened the doors. It would be around that time that Dad and Bobby – his business partners – would arrive, bringing with them coffee and pastries that they always insisted Dean took a bite. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't, because if Ash or Chuck got to the pastries before him, there would be nothing left, but Dean didn't mind. He never ate too much these days.

It had turned out that, since Dad and Bobby had always been friends, now that Dad had decided to stay, Bobby had lent him some money so both men could propose business partnership to Dean. They'd bought the old house beside the garage so now, with Dad and Bobby helping, Dean was able to take more orders for restoring old classic cars, and the money was coming like never before.

Dad and Mom were together again; he had moved back to the house a month ago. Dean couldn't say he was completely comfortable having him around all the time, but he would get there. What the hell, with everything that happened, who was Dean to criticize or judge anyone's mistakes? Besides, she seemed happy, and that was all that mattered to Dean.

Sam and Jess had also gotten married. They'd decided to anticipate the wedding date and the ceremony had been simple but beautiful. Jess was radiant in her white dress, beautiful like an angel, pun intended. Sam was nervous, sweating in his suit, but his eyes showed everything Dean needed to know: he was completely happy. They were moving to Kansas City in February, Sam's new job waiting for him.

Christmas would come soon and everyone was busy, planning a big party. Everyone seemed happy, like the ending of a soap opera, where all the characters get married or find true love, or win the lottery or all their deepest dreams come true.

Well, except that, for Dean, none of that had happened. He had more money, though, that was true. And if life was indeed a soap opera, this was a good moment for the last chapter, with everyone happy. Only, Dean's role would be that of the uncle, the bachelor with money, who never brought anyone to the family parties, and all the children would be around him begging for a story about his adventures; stories that always featured him alone doing something funny so the little ones would laugh. The children would love him, the adults would worry about him, and he would smile and say he was fine. And, after the party ended, he would go home. Alone.

But life wasn't a soap opera. Life was real, and amazing, and there was more out there that the human eye could see. And Dean's ending in this story wouldn't be sad or lonely. It wouldn't, and he refused people's opinions about his life get to him. He refused to let Cas' absence bring him down.

Cas had asked him to wait. "_I'll never leave you, Dean. Never, because you're my reason to live. Trust me. Wait for me," _Cas had said, and Dean was still waiting. He firmly believed that Cas would come back, and no one could tell him otherwise. He was an angel, he could do anything, be anywhere, but he had asked Dean to trust him and wait. So of course, Dean had no doubt that Cas would come back. Dean would wait for him, no matter how long it took.

"A penny for your thoughts," John said, waving a cinnamon roll in front of Dean. "You want some? You better be quick before Ash gets there."

"Asshole," Dean batted John's hand away but gave him a crooked smile. "I know that Ash only eats doughnuts. You're the one with a black hole for a stomach."

"I can't do anything if I have a healthy appetite," John said, taking a huge bite of his pastry.

"Yeah, right," Dean snorted. "And Mom says I'm the glutton of the family. Now I know I took after you. Who the hell has lasagna for breakfast?"

"In my defense," John said, with his mouth full, "I had no idea that Mary was saving all that lasagna for you. I was hungry after a particular busy night, if you get me. That's why I ate everything."

Dean covered his ears with his hands. "Oh my God, Dad, too much information! I didn't need to know that! There's a line you just crossed here, Dad, Jesus Christ, no son wants to know that!"

John laughed and sat heavily in the sofa, eating the rest of the roll in one bite. "I can't help it, you're too funny when you get annoyed."

"Idiot," Dean muttered, but there was no anger in his voice. "At least swallow your food, dammit."

The truth was that Dean liked the banter between him and John, and sometimes Bobby. It made the work easier, the hours seemed to go by faster and soon it was time to go home.

"You want a ride?" he asked John, before locking the door at five PM sharp.

"Nah. Mary is going to Pam's house after work, apparently Pam's boyfriend is cheating on her or whatever. I guess Bobby and I will go to the Roadhouse for a few beers. Wanna come?"

Dean shook his head no. "I wanna work on the kitchen cabinets today."

"You sure?" John frowned, averting his eyes. "You could join me and your Mom for dinner later."

"Thanks, but I still have some leftover from yesterday." Dean put on his winter jacket, grabbing the car keys from the side pocket. "I guess I'm going, then."

"You'll be alright by yourself in that house?"

"_My_ house, you mean." Dean looked t his father pointedly. "And yes, I'll be just fine. Are you going to start worrying for nothing, just like Mom?"

John huffed a sigh. "It's just that you spend all your spare time alone in the house, Dean, and for what? You don't even know if he will ever – "

"Stop right there," Dean said sharply. "You know what, I'm leaving now. See you tomorrow." He turned around and started walking to the Impala, not waiting for John's reply. "Bye, Bobby," he said when he passed the old man who was trying to put a cap over his beanie.

"Idjit," Bobby grunted, "Don't forget to bring the coffee tomorrow, it's your turn."

"Will do," Dean gave him a fake smile and kept walking. He didn't like to go to the diner too much these days. Everywhere he looked, it seemed that Cas would step from behind the counter and greet him with his stupid wide smile and intense stare, and it hurt to know he wasn't there.

When Dean came back from death – and wow, how many people could say that? – he woke up in Jess' room, and for a few moments he was a little overwhelmed when Sam, John and Jess started yelling, crying, hugging and shaking him. But then he looked around and Cas was not there, as Dean expected he would be. He was dismayed to see the angel had not come back yet, but he didn't get alarmed at first, because hey, Cas had been right behind him, right?

But as the days went on, Cas didn't come back, and his family started to ask what had happened, why the angel wasn't there yet. The more Dean explained, he couldn't make them understand how he could be so_ sure_ that Cas would come back. Shit, Dean himself couldn't explain how he knew it would be alright. But he did.

Jess had been the only one to offer him some peace about this. She'd squeezed his hand and explained that time run differently in Heaven, Purgatory, Hell, and Earth. Gabriel hadn't answered their prayers yet, but that didn't mean he was avoiding them. He did have work to do, after all. Or, he could still be in Heaven helping Castiel. Who knew? She'd said Dean should trust the bond him and Cas had, and not give up. "Pray," she'd added, smiling.

So Dean prayed. Every day. Several times a day, even. At first it was really a prayer, but soon he started talking to Cas as if the angel was right there with him. He started telling him about his day, about Sam, Jess, Dad, Mom, Missouri. He asked him to come back if and when he could, and always made sure to add he was still waiting and would always be.

He didn't know if Cas could hear him. But _someone_ could, because there were freaking _angels_ in Heaven, who could hear them, and if that wasn't amazing, Dean didn't know what else could be. There was even a God out there, and even if Dean wasn't in best buddies terms with the guy yet, He had paid attention to them, apparently, and had lent them a hand. So Dean added a prayer to Him here and there, just in case.

When Dean found the house, he prayed to Cas and told him he would buy it. He hadn't been looking for a new place to live, but as soon as he saw it, he fell for its blue walls and small garden on the front. He bought it on an impulse, and refused to listen to his folks telling him he shouldn't move.

The house was small and unfinished, but there was a little bit of land behind it and Dean figured that he could always build another room if he and Cas needed more space. Yes, _Cas_, because the angel would come back and they would live there together, and fuck everyone who tried to tell Dean he was crazy or ask him what he would do in a house alone. He wasn't going to live there alone, dammit.

Right now, only the kitchen and the bedroom were finished, but Dean wasn't in a hurry. He wanted to savor it, restoring his house with his own hands, like he did with his cars. It was a special place, so Dean was taking his time. If Cas came back before Dean finished it, he would teach the angel how to use the saw, the hammer, how to paint walls and polish wood, and they would build the rest of their own house together.

Tonight, he was finishing the kitchen cabinets. They were made from dark wood, and Dean took pride in the intricate patterns he'd carved on the doors, but he still had to polish them. That would have to wait until tomorrow, because it was getting late and now all he wanted to do was eat and sleep.

There was a knock on the door as soon as Dean sat in front of the TV with his dinner. Grimacing, he tried to ignore it, because if Mom, Dad or Sam wanted to talk to him they could use the phone, so it probably was someone else. He wasn't expecting anyone, though.

After a few seconds, the knocks came again. Shit, Dean was already in his pajamas, he was so not in the mood to chat to a nosy neighbor right now. Sighing, he put his plate on the coffee table and got up. "I'm coming, hold your horses!" he yelled, annoyed, knowing that he would probably had to re heat Mom's casserole later.

He wasn't ready for what he saw when he opened the door.

"Hello, Dean," Cas said, serious, his face a mixture of joy, anxiety and hesitation.

"Cas…" Dean exhaled, as if he'd been holding his breath for a long time. He couldn't say anything more than that, because he suddenly had his arms full of Cas, and they were holding each other tight. Cas' arms around Dean felt _right_ like they always had, his smell was just like Dean remembered, his soft brown hair was tickling Dean's cheek and it was _perfect_.

"Dean…" Cas said, releasing Dean a little, "Let me look at you…" There was a soft smile on his lips, and his eyes were as intense as they'd always been, huge blue pools that looked at Dean like he was the most important thing in the whole universe.

Dean closed his eyes and touched Cas' lips with his, softly at first, almost asking if it was alright. But merely a second later, he gripped Cas tight again and deepened the kiss, because he had missed him so much, _so much_. He had waited three fucking months, and now Cas was here, and if Dean didn't kiss him _right now_ he would think it was another dream.

He only realized he had been kissing Cas by his doorstep, giving his neighbors quite a show, when Cas grunted and started pushing him a little so he could close the door. As soon as the door closed, though, Dean's mind started to cooperate. He didn't want to talk now, and Cas appeared to agree with him, because they stood there just looking at each other for a while.

Then, Dean pulled Cas by the hand without a word, up the stairs, right to the bedroom he had just painted the weekend before, to the bed he had just finished three days ago, to the mattress the store had delivered yesterday morning. He took Cas' shirt slowly, then his own, and he laid on the bed, pulling Cas with him, until they were face to face again.

"You came home for good?" was the first thing that occurred to him.

Cas nodded, his eyes never leaving Dean's. "Yes, Dean, I – "

"Shhh…" Dean said. "Later. We have time. Now just let me…" he took a shaky breath, not knowing quite how to go on. "They said I was crazy, but… I always believed you'd come back."

"You are my reason to live, Dean," Cas said, and Dean closed his eyes and smiled, remembering what Cas had said the last time they saw each other.

"I love you too," Dean said, because it could be a cliché, but it was true. Dean knew that Cas would be able to see in his eyes everything he felt, but he wanted to say it. Because it was real, and it was true, and he felt really blessed to have the love of his life with him again. Because that's what Castiel, angel of the Lord, was; the freaking love of Dean Winchester's life.

Dean lost himself in the feeling of having Cas in his arms again, and decided they didn't need to talk right now. With his heart hammering inside his chest, he pulled Cas to him and kissed him again, sighing when Cas' hands framed his face.

Later, there would be time to talk. Dean would learn that Cas still stayed in Purgatory fighting the Leviathans who entered the cave for a long time; that the angel had always known he couldn't leave the place unless he turned human; that Cas cried when he had to cross the pool of light made by his Grace and had to leave said Grace there, on the ground, trapped by his name written on the cave's ground.

Cas would tell him that he didn't regret turning into a human, and Dean would feel uncomfortable with Cas' sacrifice at first. But Cas would insist he was fine and Dean would let it go, knowing that it had been Cas' choice. A creature who'd never had free will before and now was exercising his right to make his own choices for the first time, should have his decision respected.

Dean would learn that Gabriel had waited for Cas outside the portal, like he had waited for Dean, and that Cas had been so weak that Gabriel had spent some time healing him before he could take him back to Earth. He would learn that God had given Cas a soul, and that Cas was now as human as any other, the scars on his backs the only sign that there used to be wings there.

Later, much later, Cas would tell him that Death had been punished because of his pride, and that no angel would have to submit to him ever again, because God had created Reapers to work only for him, and had banished the Grim Reaper to somewhere between Heaven and Hell.

They would live in this house until they got old, and never, ever, spend another day without seeing each other. Cas would start working as a librarian, grow a garden in the front of the house, and spend the afternoons waiting for Dean in the front porch, reading a book. They would get married in June, because Dean really wanted Cas to be a Winchester. They would build another room years later, because Sam's kids liked to stay with them when they visited, even though John and Mary's house was bigger.

Cas would freak out with his first gray hair, and Dean would smile and say he would love him even when he turned old and wrinkled. But he would understand that in fact, Cas was contemplating his own death, and he was scared. Even though he was sure they would see each other in Heaven, he wouldn't mind when, once in a while, Cas would sit by the window, looking at the garden with a thoughtful expression. Even though Cas didn't regret leaving Heaven, he'd lived there for millennia, so of course he would miss it sometimes.

But that was for later. All those things, those wonderful things that Dean never believed he would have, like a house, a family, someone who would love him forever, could wait. Because now wasn't the right time to talk.

So, Dean just held Cas tighter, kissed him a little stronger, and forgot there was anything besides this moment, in this room, with this guy that had raised him from Purgatory. Dean's own angel, who, even though a mere human now, would love him forever and would always watch over him.

THE END


End file.
